I haven’t been feeling well, hence the reason why I’ve been MIA.
Life never seems to go according to plan without the bottom dropping out, at least not in my experience. It appears that the more I try to better my situation, there’s always this darkness that follows me around like a farting puppy dog.
For a long while, I put having fibromyalgia on the back burner so that I could focus on my mental health. (Um, they go together like peanut butter and jelly, duh.)
That’s what this blog is mostly based on.
Well, I don’t really understand why I didn’t expect a massive resurgence of my fibro symptoms to occur, since I went back and forth to my TMS treatments for two months, pushing myself to my limits. Along with winter coming, I believe that’s one of the reasons why I’m experiencing such frightening shit, which leaves me stunned that a human body can malfunction on such a massive scale.
I’m always in pain. I’m wobbly on my feet. I can’t regulate my body temperature. My feet go numb for no apparent reason. Light things are heavy to me. No matter what I eat (or don’t eat) my stomach causes me hell. I’ve had IBS for many years and I still can’t figure it out, it’s like a bratty 2-year-old.
I’m fucking exhausted. Exercise intolerant, although I’m looking to join an amateur bowling league starting soon because I need to get out of the house so the seasonal depression doesn’t suck me in. The bowling alley is 5 minutes from my house, so I want to try.
I need to be around people or I’ll go oingo boingo.
My doctor prescribes my pain meds and he tells me to keep on the best that I can. But honestly, I’m starting to think that I won’t be able to take care of myself by the time I reach my 50’s, which isn’t that far off now. It’s a scary prospect.
My daughter works all of the time. She’s one of those people who live to work. I admire her, I do. I’m not hating on her. I mean, she can’t put her own life on hold so that she can take care of her ill mom. So, I just spend a LOT of time alone with my pets. It does get old, though.
Oh, the boyfriend? Yeah, things are not so hot with us. He’s more like a part-time boyfriend, really. Plus, he’s extremely active and well, I’m not. There’s no such thing as staying home and watching a movie with him. He always needs to be doing something. We’re not well-matched at all…it’s really starting to become more apparent.
I made my decisions. I tossed the ex-husband out knowing full well that I would be basically on my own. This is especially true now that my mom is deceased, although for her sake, at least she’s not here to worry about me anymore. And I don’t have to feel guilty for making her anxious about what’s going to happen with Merry.
I’ll admit, I am envious of my married friends. At least they have someone to take care of them when they’re sick. I don’t want the ex back (he’s remarried anyway!) I just hate that I chose such a horrible man to begin with.
The third is the charm? Not so much.
Now I have a boyfriend who keeps away from me when I’m feeling extremely sick, which is happening quite often these days. That in itself should tell me all that I need to know.
His idea of being helpful is giving me medical advice that he read about in some article and then telling me to feel better. He’ll say, but there’s nothing that I can do to help you!
I say…well, just be there for me.
The older I get, the more I believe that I’m never going to meet the right guy. I guess not everyone is meant to have a fulfilling, healthy relationship. This lifetime is all about learning harsh lessons if you believe in that sort of thing.
I’ve realized that as much as clinical depression sucks, situational depression is no walk in the park either.
Thanks for letting me rant if you got this far.