When the morning alarm goes off and you cry.
Not because you can’t do it all again, but because you fucking have to. And it’s hard. Some days it’s just too fucking hard.
Life. People. Emails. Meetings. Children. Parenting. Housework.
… Chronic illness.
Everyone needs a day off sometimes. But chronic illness adds another layer to it all. There are no days off.
There’s so many things I would like to do – gym, walk in the country, maybe take myself out for a nice lunch somewhere. Read a book. Fuck, if I’m being honest, I also fancy having a crack at writing a book.
Instead though … nothing. I haven’t got the energy. I feel flat. School pick up is just around the corner and the clock is ticking if I want any kind of ‘me time’ before then.
It’s all I can do to run myself a bath. I fancy a mug of Bovril. And chocolate. So that’s what I do: bath and Bovril. I end up feeling too crap to eat the chocolate in the end. Ho hum. Chronic illness can strike anywhere – including the bath.
I go on about the importance of rest and self-care, but sometimes rest just doesn’t feel like self-care. It’s a necessity that keeps me out of a wheelchair. It also comes at the cost of having time to do the stuff that makes my heart happy. Except, if I don’t rest then I won’t have the energy to do any of the heart-happy stuff. Or any of the essential-yet-relentlessly-time-consuming everyday life shit that appears to be getting me down today because I then don’t have time for the heart-happy stuff. It’s a vicious circle.
I don’t really know what the point of this post is today. I guess to highlight that no-one is immune to low days. In general I’m a chirpie chappy. Accepting of my situation, happy with my lot – and I keep my sense of humour.
But when I wake up crying … that’s when I truly realise how fucking hard it all is.
Also, a moth flew onto my face this morning. Apparently, my face is now a dazzling lightbulb white. Clearly some sunshine wouldn’t go amiss!
So, for anyone having a tough day today: look out for moths. And eat the chocolate first. Bovril is great – but it ain’t chocolate.
Many a morning’s myself after waking up from dreams of living life a long time ago. I too, slowly sit up and evaluate the day ahead. Sometimes I feel ok. Meaning I’m tired, achy, “it is what it is”, but I’m cozy in bed. I’m deciding that’s good enough. Other mornings I cry!!! Such deep guttural pain and loss! Such anger!!! Mother fucker!! I’m the potty mouth in my house. I’m 61, at 37 ended up with osteoarthritis in spine from laying in bed for 5 months baking my 3rd baby, 38 fibromyalgia. Always active, kids, home and garden, horse jumping, shit cry. At 52 ME/POTS. In bed for a year. Do all the pacing, tv, reading, crafts, distraction techniques, CBT, “bullshit”! You, Emma, are phenomenal! Your writing is true. Authentic. Telling it like it is from inside of one’s self. You are a lovely distraction! I am my own worst enemy but your spiders and chocolate are little bits of sunlight that gets through the cracks in the dark. Keep it up and clean. LOL! Diane