I Just Want To Scream!

I am going to start this off by saying I am not looking for sympathy; I just need to vent, and I am feeling comfortable here so those of you who want to read on, let me thank you for just “listening to me.” I know that I am not alone, and others are in just the same state, or worse than me. So, in a way, I am venting for all of us.

I have both chronic mental and physical illnesses. I don’t feel the need to list them all again, though I may refer to them in context.

I talked the other day about the fact I am bingeing again. I have decided that I am ready to deal with this. It is not going to be easy as it goes back to my early teens; however, I know that my pain levels are affected by both my excess weight and all the sugar I eat. The carbohydrates also affect my moods and not in good ways.

So, why am I screaming? It just isn’t fair that I keep dealing with the pain, the emotions, the never-ending flu and cold bugs, insomnia, the horrid fatigue and everything else and once I think I have got one thing under control, one or more others take over.

I can not make any plans in writing because I never know until the last minute if I will be able to follow through. That makes a social life very challenging, so I end up not trying, not reaching out to others for fear of letting them down (but in reality, I don’t want to let myself down).

I never talk much about my Hubby. He is my rock, my world. For the longest time in our marriage, he couldn’t understand why I was the way I was. Why should he? I don’t understand it much myself. He also had challenges, but I couldn’t see past my own. We both had to hit rock bottom to relate to the other and now, it is just as hard or harder than before, but we now look to what the other needs first.

I miss having a full-time job. I would love to go out with friends more. Recently I had to miss a training session to become a group leader of a chronic pain program. Why? I was suffering from a pain flare. Don’t you just love the irony there? I can’t plan much in the mornings because even if I can wake up early after I have gotten ready I am ready to go back to bed from the fatigue.

I sometimes think if I could just get more active and lose some pounds I will start to feel better. Tonight before writing this I went on the exercise bike and set the timer for five minutes and went slow – I didn’t quite make the two-minute mark, and I was out of breath. I tried my exercise chair with weighted pullies, designed for people who can’t use the regular equipment. I did ten reps of three exercises and thought I was going to be sick. That was with zero resistance.

At least I tried, right?

I read an article by a young woman with chronic illness talking about how tough it is living with something that won’t only never get better but could, in fact, get worse. I think that is what inspired me to write this. I keep getting visions of me in a wheelchair. I don’t know if this is reality or if it is me not fighting harder to get better.

And the doctors don’t know either. At least they aren’t telling me anything. I get to the point where I don’t bother to see them because I won’t get any answers. They give me some morphine and send me on my way. I don’t need the damned drugs. I am used to the pain. I want to make sure I am not doing more damage. Or that it isn’t something new.

What about my faith in all of this? Ironically, it is stronger than ever. I don’t blame God for my situation, nor do ask I Him for healing. I know that He has allowed this to make me a stronger person and to use me to help others. That never changes no matter how frustrated or sick I get.

Okay, I think I have screamed myself out. I appreciate anyone who “listened.” Again, I am not after sympathy; sometimes I just need to stop being strong and show my vulnerable side.