I sit here writing to you on this Sunday evening hoping to find some clarity in the days ahead.
I’ve been pretty poor at writing my blog of late, it seems that things have been getting in the way – mostly boyfriend and work related ‘things’ – but I feel as if I don’t spent enough time getting through the real crux of my problems.
The inevitable fall, or the path to my next admission.
I am stuck these days waiting for something to happen. Most days, I feel none of the dread I once felt many months ago, when first starting counselling and being newly single and a complete misery guts in general. Crohn’s was, then, getting me down. These days, I feel differently. I feel optimistic and glad of its fortune in my life. Alas, I can’t always continue these bright and wonderful thoughts. Eventually the doom clouds over my mind and my judgement and I panic.
The pain then floods in. The worries come back and I’m coming into a flare up, a mini one, but one nonetheless. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I wound myself, intentionallyand without means nor reason, when things are going well? It is one of the things I find hard to accept. All these changes, all these ups and downs.
And its not just my emotions. Lately, the health isn’t what it should be. I’ve gained weight – and yes, I am complaining about this – my fatigue is back, tiredness comes when I’m at work and I am creaking like the Whomping Willow from Hogwarts. It is tough, my joints are my main concern at the moment. I am worried it will become a form of arthritis; which I am assured is a ‘normal’ part of Crohn’s Disease. Still, it’s sucky and another compliant aliment that I must attend to and monitor.
I have a sneaky suspicion that that beloved Iron Infusion Good Hope gave me only a month ago isn’t up to much in my blood stream. I felt better for about 10 to 12 days and slowly my fatigue crept back in and took me hostage. I go to work and I am pushing so hard against everything, trying to be Superwoman yet again, finding it far too difficult to be cautious and giving myself the start of some chronic pain issues. I just struggle through them, like anyone else, but something is going to give; I’ve learnt from my past that it will eventually happen and when I really don’t need nor want it to.
I sit here and moan and get things off my chest that bother me; knowing that things could be worse and there is always someone who has it much much worse than me. But being so damn individual and damn frustrating, what I call painful is nothing compared. Compared.. why compare? I’ve stopped myself this week from getting too emotional and too upset about my failing body.. frustrated that my suffering won’t be taken seriously, and wondering how to solve it, mend it, reduce it to a bearable level.. but this afternoon I broke. I finished putting things away at work just before close and sat down to finally feel my throbbing feet and aching knees and back. I couldn’t take it anymore. I cried. Not in pain.. but because I had held my metaphorical tongue.
There is nothing more frustrating and confusing as being caught between your own emotions. Of not knowing when it is best to say something and when it is best to remain quiet. Here, I can talk. And I realised that so hard earlier on. So damn hard.