Laying in bed, my leg hurting like hell, and my mind going a mile a minute was not conducive to sleep, so maybe if I sit here and get my thoughts out, I’ll finally be able to get the rest I so desperately need. Hopefully the Advil will take effect soon!
The most prevalent feeling is frustration. Frustrated by my worsening health, and by the fact that I’ve had to take a leave from work because of it. Things don’t happen in threes, at least not with me they don’t. I was so excited to get decent health coverage, because I thought maybe I could finally get the Meniere’s under control, but of course, my body had other plans. My ankle started giving me more trouble, making that a higher priority. Then the migraines started becoming more and more frequent, to the point where they were an almost daily occurrence. So, the doc tries to put me on a medicine to prevent them, and my insurance won’t cover it until I’ve tried at least 3 other meds. So, I’m on the first one, and although it’s helping a bit, I’m still having a migraine about every 2-3 days, which is not normal. Then, for some unexplained (as of yet) reason, my vision has been taking a shit on me. My worst fear is that it’s another stroke, although the symptoms aren’t exactly the same as when I had my first stroke. Of course, that doesn’t help my fears any. I’m too young for all this shit happening to me. I just want my health back the way it was before the dizziness started. Hell, I’d be happy to permanently get rid of just two of my problems.
As if the health problems weren’t bad enough, our finances have taken a nose dive. Not that they were anything to sneeze at before, but it’s really bad now that I’m not working. And Social Security could take a year or more to come through for me. So, I’m feeling guilty that I’m not earning anything for our family. Guilty that my Husband, who already works his ass off, has to work twice as hard now. Guilty that every time we try to do something, we can’t because of my health or not having any money. Guilty that every time I bring it up to my Husband, he tells me to knock it off and stop feeling guilty, that it’s not my fault my health is rapidly declining and that we’re in this together. Funny how his being so chivalrous, and kindhearted, and loving can make me feel like a complete shithead. It’s a real good thing that I’ve never been the greedy, shallow type, and that I can ’roll with the punches’ when it comes to not having any money…well, to an extent. I mean, I don’t care about the material things. Almost all my clothes have holes in them, but I have clothes. I don’t care about dressing up in the latest styles, or make-up, or jewelry, or going out to eat all the time, or going out partying. But, damn it, I do care if we have enough to eat, or heat and electricity. And lately, none of those essentials are a guarantee.
Then there’s the anger. Anger at the world in general. Anger at my health and our finances. Being angry about little things that shouldn’t make me as mad as they currently do. Anger at people who brag about what good fortunes they have. Anger at people who complain that they don’t have (or didn’t get) some material thing, or complaining about what they did get. Anger that no matter how hard I (we) try, it’s always one step forward, five steps back. Anger that my Husband can’t find a better job, no matter how hard he looks for one. Anger about the way people are treating their children.
The worst, though, is the sadness. Every emotion I have lately, ends in sadness. I get frustrated, calm down, become sad. I’m feeling guilty and sad at the same time. I’m angry, then sad. The sadness seems to permeate every ounce of my being. I just can’t shake it. Old thoughts (the ones only a couple of people really know about) come creeping back in on a daily basis. I’ve been crying myself to sleep lately; crying whenever I’m alone. I try like hell to not cry in front of my Son, because he’s so sensitive, he’ll feel like it’s his fault. I hold back my tears and my thoughts from my Husband, because I don’t want to burden him any more than he already is. I don’t tell my parents because I don’t want to be judged (especially by my father, when it comes to my health and finances). I don’t tell my friends, because they either have enough on their plates already, or because I’d end up bringing them down. So it sits, and festers.