The Everyday Struggle

Yesterday I was so out of sorts. 1 step forward...1 BIG shove back...isn't that what I keep saying? Well I may sit here and preach it but it really sucks to live it! I have my Fibromyalgia managed. For right now, anyway. It took years, a lot of hard work and endless amounts of toil but I was on a major upswing...until the strokes hit. Actually, more to the point, until the Prednisone hit. I AM SO OUT OF CONTROL OF MYSELF!!! I am manic, or I am depressed, there is no middle ground. Both contain their own brand of evil. I am being humbled as I acutely remember what a disgusting and dirty fight it truly was to get Fibromyalgia off the front burner and into the "microwave in the garage" of my life. Sunday I was strong, ready to conquer the world. Certainly stronger than some measly little pills that were amping me up and forcing me to run around like a chicken with no head. I stayed centered and focused and in control, attuned to my higher purpose, exuding (a sometimes forced) serenity all day. But if I don't "down" myself enough one day then the next I am SUPERSPEED! And that is how yesterday started. My attempt to pretend I have a normal life by laying out at the pool was miserable. I was racing through my book, my mind tripping over itself, my feet and legs a blur of bounce, barely able to stand lying there and doing nothing. So I gave in and took a Flexeril which hardly did a thing. An hour later I took 1/4 Xanax, and then I fell LOW. Right back to where I was Saturday; desperate, panicked, freaking out about working in my present state, about not having a steady income, enough money to pay my bills. How can I put makeup on someone with crack-head-shaking hands? How can I even begin to get through a job interview and appear somewhat sane and normal? Once again I find myself so stressed about money problems, medical bills, paranoid, angry, victimized...all consuming me at once.

Sunday I convinced myself I did not have the luxury of running around in this state. I am a stroke victim now, and that changes things. I must exercise prudence and faith and calm and rational behavior. Behaving like the histrionic and melodramatic teenager that is manic Leah is counterproductive to any sort of healthy progress. I keep having to remind myself that my 1 and only goal now is to live. That is my primary purpose and everything else must come second. Yet I feel that I am barely hanging on to the Grand Canyon of life by my fingertips, any second ready to let go and fall into the abyss. So as I freaked out on my husband last night, pouring out all my stress and angst, he gathered me in his arms and said, "Honey, I am glad you are going through this because you are here to go through this. I would have been a widower for just over a month now. I cannot even imagine..." and I flung my arms back around him and held him tight and thanked God for sparing my life. And then I wanted to kick him in the shins for giving me such a massive ice-bucket of water over my head of reality...no not really. God bless that man.

Thanks for joining,
Leah