Friday, January 15, 2016

Freedom from Crazy

Yesterday I almost lost my resolve to stop emotionally reacting to my health, circumstances, and life. I had an extremely painful infected cyst on my back I had to have drained by a surgeon. Then I got a cold. And having slacked off so much on my exercise while completing my commitment to gainful employment left my muscles tight, sore, aching, and all together screaming in pain. And have I ever mentioned I suffer from insomnia? Being this sick for this long makes me crazy. I try so hard to not let it, but am really just one woman being swept into a sea of afflictions and am sometimes just not that strong.

And it's okay. I don't have to be strong all the time. In fact, as long as I don't sabotage myself in reaction, the whole experience is really quite human. Quite normal. And quite possibly one of my biggest triggers. See, I spent years furious with myself for getting so bent out of shape over 1) how sick I was and 2) what that sickness was doing to my life. So once again it was my reaction, not my reality, that made things worse. But did I really just expect myself, starting at the age of 28, to gracefully lose my ability to live my life, earn a living, and engage with the world-- with nary a care of concern? Come on now, that's just not the way people are built! Especially me.

I'm in my eleventh year of living with chronic illness and have finally found an acceptance that has evaded me until this point. It's made me realize acceptance is freedom. Freedom from having to be different (not sick), freedom from living up to the expectations of others (give them love and a smile, not a commitment to host Thanksgiving dinner), freedom from believing I could have handled any of the previous ten years any better. And freedom is, most of all, the ability to move forward without giving into the crazy. So I guess, seeing as I wanted to give into my errant emotions but instead redirected my focus on organizing my Tupperware lids, mission accomplished.

Thanks for joining,
Leah          

5 comments:

  1. Amen Sister! We do the best we can, and that's 'our' reality. If others don't 'get' it, that's not our problem. Love the title!! :)

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  2. I SO understand. Thank you for your words. A friend of mine recommended your blog to me. I've just begun one. Its anonymous so family and friends don't get bent out of shape when I just tell it like it is. I have Fibro...and then a list of things and mysteries...I'm sure you understand. After my sleepless nice and pain so bad that clothes hurt, to read your words was helpful. Thank you and God Bless. -Ruth

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  3. Leah,
    Hang in there. This is so hard. Don't despair.

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  4. I hear your struggle in your words. How can we not have emotions to losing control over our lives? And I hear the guilt you feel for having those emotions. The guilt society puts on us and then we take it upon ourselves to do. Guilt for being sick and unable to be productive. Guilt for having emotions about it. Guilt for wondering what we did to make this happen to us. Guilt for knowing that others think we aren't that sick but really just too emotional and depressed. And we wonder if they are right but know they are wrong. You are right. At some point we have to just believe in something. Why not our own gut and experience? I have to work. And it makes my suffering extreme. I have to go way beyond my energy levels. And people notice I am different and recently my boss changed my job to include intense paperwork and writing which makes me physically ill. Problem is, neither he nor my coworkers believe me. So now I am being emotionally battered and treated like I am over emotional, yes I cried as I tried to explain to him why I couldn't do the new job, and he called me a martyr. So the bullies in the office are joining in to regularly talk down to me and punish me for being.... Weak? I don't know why bullies bully but I am the target. So this disease has made me look like everything I'm not. And I need to be on disability so bad but I was told I have to be working less than 20 hours to apply. Me and my children would have to be homeless for a year before I could actually get it IF I was approved in a year. So.... Our lives are impossible. Acceptance comes, then it goes again when this disease rears its ugly head and does something new to destroy us. Avoid stress they say. OK. Thanks for your writings and for not having it all figured out. Because that's the reality of this disease. You can't figure out anything sometimes. And when you think you have gotten on top of it, it flips you over and you are on the bottom again. Sorry so long. I got going and started venting. Thanks.

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