I am having a bitch of a time these days keeping my chin up. I try. I have my moments when I feel like everything will be okay and things are getting better all the time, just like Paul says in his song. Cause they can’t get much worse, right John?
I know not everyone will get the Beatles reference.
I hold onto the things that make me happy, like my husband, my daughter, my mother, my friends, the reefer, the Beatles, my ass cushion, my dog and of course my blog. I hold on tight through the pain that seems to be worsening, my exhaustion, my tears, my fear, the out of control spinning sensation I feel sometimes when I wake up from my nap in a daze of confusion.
Is it daytime or nighttime? Sometimes I can’t tell.
Depression and Fibromyalgia have become the banes of my existence. I find it increasingly more difficult to keep up with the things I need to do, and this is without having a real honest to goodness job. I forget to make appointments, or I put them off. I hate to make phone calls. I hate to deal with anything stressful or difficult. I make promises I can’t keep, plans I have to cancel, and my excuse is always the same.
I feel a tinge of envy when I watch people walking, dancing, running, even heading off to work. I did these things (not running) with ease not so very long ago.
Yes, others are worse off than me. Yes, I am still alive. Yes, I breathe oxygen, wake up each day.
There are some days I wonder why.