Chronic illness and the good days

I’m in a better place now physically and mentally. My meds are working, I feel relatively normal and can go back to my normal level of functioning. I met up with an old friend this week, for years we just talked online and that was that.  My friend wanted to know what I’d been up to the last couple of months, what interesting things we could talk about.  If I cast my memory back I don’t remember much at all. It’s like a blur of feelings rather than being/ doing. One reason is, I was in so much pain I couldn’t do much besides work and rest. Resting at home means swapping from sofa to bed as each one becomes painful. To having depression and not realising it, then the painful realisation that I had it, and the month I waited to increase my meds because I felt too unhinged to take a risk increasing them. As it turns out I didn’t have the same side effects as last time and the drowsiness was short lived – not months like before. I feel good. But I hadn’t faced the wound that was still there and got poked just in the right place that after that meet, I went home and cried. And cried the next day. To realise your body restricts you from doing what you want is hard, to be forced to say it out loud several times was hard. I can’t go do xyz. My body can’t take it. My last year or two has been hell. A merry go round of torture that I only sometimes talk about but always think about. I guess I needed to grieve my last year out, and cry about how shit my body can be and in future will be. I just hadn’t expected that he be the one to pick my wound clean. It took me by surprise and thank gods he stopped probing because I would have cried on the spot. I may leave it a whole before I can face that again. Damn. Who said he could Tower me ? One day I might find it funny.  I guess everyone gets caught out sometimes. Fibromyalgia and disc disease. My life is hard going. My normal isn’t everyone else’s normal. Sucks 


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