Bad Attitude
I'm still mad.
Crohn's still sucks.
I'm still in pain.
My attitude rivals that of a newly awakened hibernating bear. All teeth and claws.
Is it bad that all I want to do is curl up with my Bubba dog and pretend the world doesn't exist?
That's where I'm at right now.
The stupid weather can't make up it's mind. One day it's a gorgeous 73 degrees and the next it's arctic living at it's worst. I wore flip flops yesterday and today, Uggs because there is snow blowing sideways. I've stopped watching the weather because it does nothing but piss me off. If I follow the forecasts then I start to anticipate the pain I will be in which makes me feel like a total hypochondriac. My body is enough of a radar on it's own. I can feel a change coming as early as 2 days before it arrives. Every joint in me is screaming, "MOVE TO A TROPICAL CLIMATE!"
I was telling some friends yesterday just how badly my attitude stinks. I want to get past this but I just can't seem to which made me think: Do I really want to move forward or am I enjoying being in this dark place? Am I hanging on to the anger because it's easier than dealing with the fact that I have Crohn's?
Probably.
You know what I want? I want to have that feeling that I experienced when I stopped breathing in 2011. The complete and total sensation of weightless peace.
I'm not suicidal, don't call the white coat guys yet.
I made a deal with God. (Well, it's what I tell myself anyway.) I feel like I have a choice when I'm in the hospital of whether or not I want to fight to survive. This last go round, I didn't want to fight so I told God that. I told Him, I'm not going to over extend myself this time, if I'm going home it's because You want me to otherwise I'm coming to see You in heaven. I'm done and I'm tired of this stupid battle but if You make me better and I end up going home then I will honor that. I will do what I need to do to take care of myself because it's obviously Your plan that I live with this stupid chronic illness.
So here I am. Home. Living with the stupid Crohn's.
I'm tired of being told how brave and strong I am. I don't feel brave and I certainly don't feel strong.
I feel like I don't have a choice.
I'm not trying to inspire others. I don't want to be the poster child for living with this crap. I want to be normal. I want energy to do things, anything, and not require pain meds or a nap. I don't want to measure out my energy. I don't want to weigh tasks like going to the grocery store versus having lunch with a friend. I want to do both! In the same day!
My friend asked me on a scale of 1-10, (10 being I could go out and run a half marathon) where I'm at. Ha, being optimistic, I told her I was a 3. Really, I'm a 3 on a scale of 1 to 100. I am barely functioning and that's the truth. I might look good when I clean up, fix my hair and make-up but physically I am only operating on the 4-6 hours of each pain pill.
This is the great deception of invisible illness. My body hates me on the inside and that rarely translates to the outside world.
I can put on a good show when I'm out and about. And I can tell you I'm fine when asked how I am. I've mastered this art. If I answered truthfully, no one would want to be around me. I'd be so depressing. Imagine if I answered like this: "You know that achy feeling you get just before the flu sets in? That's how I feel every damn day. That's how I feel right now even though I am out eating, shopping, whatever... I feel like crap. Bad crap, not just sorta crappy but full on crap. I am aware of every joint and muscle in my body because it's on fire. My head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. I can see my energy draining like the little whirlpool of water as it leaves the bathtub. My legs are shaky and there has to be a vice grip somewhere in my guts that is rusted and clamped so tight it will take an act of God to remove it. So that's what's up with me, how are things with you?"
I want to scream "SERENITY NOW!" And I want it to help me feel better. It doesn't but I do it anyway.
This week is dose #2 of the loading Humira injections. I'd be lying if I told you I am hopeful and feeling positive about it. I feel zero anything about it. My expectations are so low that if it gives me the slightest, microscopic change I will be impressed. Like I said, my attitude is really bad. Really. Really. Bad.
I might need to start my antidepressant again, ya think?
Crohn's still sucks.
I'm still in pain.
My attitude rivals that of a newly awakened hibernating bear. All teeth and claws.
Is it bad that all I want to do is curl up with my Bubba dog and pretend the world doesn't exist?
That's where I'm at right now.
The stupid weather can't make up it's mind. One day it's a gorgeous 73 degrees and the next it's arctic living at it's worst. I wore flip flops yesterday and today, Uggs because there is snow blowing sideways. I've stopped watching the weather because it does nothing but piss me off. If I follow the forecasts then I start to anticipate the pain I will be in which makes me feel like a total hypochondriac. My body is enough of a radar on it's own. I can feel a change coming as early as 2 days before it arrives. Every joint in me is screaming, "MOVE TO A TROPICAL CLIMATE!"
I was telling some friends yesterday just how badly my attitude stinks. I want to get past this but I just can't seem to which made me think: Do I really want to move forward or am I enjoying being in this dark place? Am I hanging on to the anger because it's easier than dealing with the fact that I have Crohn's?
Probably.
You know what I want? I want to have that feeling that I experienced when I stopped breathing in 2011. The complete and total sensation of weightless peace.
I'm not suicidal, don't call the white coat guys yet.
I made a deal with God. (Well, it's what I tell myself anyway.) I feel like I have a choice when I'm in the hospital of whether or not I want to fight to survive. This last go round, I didn't want to fight so I told God that. I told Him, I'm not going to over extend myself this time, if I'm going home it's because You want me to otherwise I'm coming to see You in heaven. I'm done and I'm tired of this stupid battle but if You make me better and I end up going home then I will honor that. I will do what I need to do to take care of myself because it's obviously Your plan that I live with this stupid chronic illness.
So here I am. Home. Living with the stupid Crohn's.
I'm tired of being told how brave and strong I am. I don't feel brave and I certainly don't feel strong.
I feel like I don't have a choice.
I'm not trying to inspire others. I don't want to be the poster child for living with this crap. I want to be normal. I want energy to do things, anything, and not require pain meds or a nap. I don't want to measure out my energy. I don't want to weigh tasks like going to the grocery store versus having lunch with a friend. I want to do both! In the same day!
My friend asked me on a scale of 1-10, (10 being I could go out and run a half marathon) where I'm at. Ha, being optimistic, I told her I was a 3. Really, I'm a 3 on a scale of 1 to 100. I am barely functioning and that's the truth. I might look good when I clean up, fix my hair and make-up but physically I am only operating on the 4-6 hours of each pain pill.This is the great deception of invisible illness. My body hates me on the inside and that rarely translates to the outside world.
I can put on a good show when I'm out and about. And I can tell you I'm fine when asked how I am. I've mastered this art. If I answered truthfully, no one would want to be around me. I'd be so depressing. Imagine if I answered like this: "You know that achy feeling you get just before the flu sets in? That's how I feel every damn day. That's how I feel right now even though I am out eating, shopping, whatever... I feel like crap. Bad crap, not just sorta crappy but full on crap. I am aware of every joint and muscle in my body because it's on fire. My head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. I can see my energy draining like the little whirlpool of water as it leaves the bathtub. My legs are shaky and there has to be a vice grip somewhere in my guts that is rusted and clamped so tight it will take an act of God to remove it. So that's what's up with me, how are things with you?"
I want to scream "SERENITY NOW!" And I want it to help me feel better. It doesn't but I do it anyway.
This week is dose #2 of the loading Humira injections. I'd be lying if I told you I am hopeful and feeling positive about it. I feel zero anything about it. My expectations are so low that if it gives me the slightest, microscopic change I will be impressed. Like I said, my attitude is really bad. Really. Really. Bad.
I might need to start my antidepressant again, ya think?
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