I feel like a ship floating out at sea. I exist but don't belong. Nor do I know where I belong, or where on earth I've been. The only thing I know is I've been here before. On a vast, void-less planet lacking shape, clarity, or direction. Land and sea have not been separated yet. Once again I exist, but I don't belong.
Picking up the pieces of my life is proving a much harder task than I thought it would. At first I just thought I needed to sleep for a few weeks and would get right back on track. Then fibromyalgia laughed in my face once again. It's taken me a few weeks to even start sleeping at all. I keep thinking about the woman I was before I went back to work last March. In the skewed hindsight of my memory she was a happy girl who had her health managed and was living a pretty productive life. But knowing me, I was bitching about the same things I'm all bent out of shape about now; I was just in a lot less pain and exercising a lot more.
That's when I was reminded fibromyalgia didn't just make me sick, it made my life sick. And that's what I'm hung up on-- asking myself the "whys" of life. Basically, why the hell is this my life? But experience has taught me "why" questions are a dead-end road. A pointless waste of time. Who cares why? What is, is. Quit trying to figure out why shit went wrong and get busy trying to fix it. But I'm too sick right now to fix much of anything, leaving me to sit here stewing over everything I should have become, but didn't. Which is why I feel like a ship floating out at sea. I don't even see land, let alone know how to reach it.
Thanks for joining,
Leah
