Resting with Chronic Illness

Today I ran a thousand miles through the heavy autumn air with leaves crunching underfoot as my breath grew deep, and my legs weary.

Well, maybe not a thousand.

Maybe I didn't run, either. But, it felt like it. Let me explain....

As I mentioned before, I have chronic migraines (among a few other illnesses) and yesterday I was struck down with a pretty severe one. Today it seemed to let up some, but the after affect lingered. My body was beyond exhausted. My head was foggy, and not communicating well with my brain. In general my body ached, and moaned reminiscent of the flu, or maybe a horrid hangover.

I felt the fog lifting, and the heaviness begin to ease about 2 hours ago. I'm sure that this isn't what feeling all the way well feels like, but in comparison I feel as if I could climb a mountain at 9:30 PM. I wish I could say this is unusual, but it isn't. My brain seems to come alive in the afternoon, and by evening energy levels soar. My pain is usually by far less in the later part of the day. I want to live by the moonlight, but unfortunately the world is on another schedule.

I wonder what people think when they think about the daily lives of people with chronic illnesses. Do they imagine a frail person taking pills, and laying on the couch all day? Do they think about all the rest we all must be getting? Do they imagine us with energy reserves that we can tap into as the need arises? Much like a bank account, or a camel. Do people suppose that when we stay home for a day that we can feel refreshed later?

The Depth of My Introversion

Here this last couple of weeks my household has been nonstop busy. From more than one of us being at the ER, to gas lines being broken in our backyard, to planning for my daughter's wedding coming this Saturday, then some. There's always a time sensitive situation brewing just under the surface of my every day.

For an extremely introverted, autistic person such as myself this is a bittersweet recipe for disaster.

On one hand, it's fun to do things with loved ones, like attend festivals, and getting together for dinners. Weddings are lovely events designed to celebrate the union of those we love. These are the things that make memories, and bind us together as we share in fun times together.

On the other hand, these events always have a falling out with me, unless they are extremely spaced out from each other. With every social interaction, and extra errand I leave me house to complete I feel a little bit more of my energy drain away. It's the times in my life that I love to hate.

I don't know what to call it, maybe shutdown? Not quite a meltdown, I don't think, but a couple days ago after I woke up preparing for yet another day of errands, and social activities in the evening my brain just spilled over. The overwhelm left me stuck in neutral on the outside as I felt myself sink on the inside into a sea of anxiety, and urgency to escape myself. Every noise was deafening, and I gulped for air as I searched for a bubble of silence. At first I rebelled against these feelings. I began to question my own mind. What happened? The immediate answer was nothing. I just felt assaulted by overwhelm causing my environment to feel as if it was attacking me. Thankfully, my husband asked if I needed to rest, and I accepted his offer. I rescinded into my dark bedroom with a tiny bedside lamp, and cocoon of weighted blankets, doing nothing for a bit until I fell into a small nap.

Ahhhh... Recovery.

Finding Happiness

I have different writing styles, as well as differing reasons that I blog. I have always been a writer, and there is still something so magnetic, and alluring about an empty notepad of paper that I can't hardly resist filling it with words. Words of a poem, of my thoughts, of lyrics to something that makes sense to me in that moment. Just words flowing onto an outside object from inside my head is a desire that I can't ignore. It's my way of communicating to the world, and to myself. I process the world by writing, and have ever since I learned to spell.  No matter my special interest at any given time writing is how I am going to best explore it, and share it with the world, whether anyone is on the receiving end or not.

So, this is one of those posts where I talk to myself, and share my thoughts raw. They're about as mysterious to me as unknown to you. I finally have the confidence to not worry so much about whether or not anyone is going to read it, or if this post is going to be shared, or receive comments. It likely won't, but I don't write to please others. I write because I have to express myself, and this is how I do it. How others interpret this expression is up to them, and while I love to get feedback it is not necessary for me to get in order to enjoy the process of writing.

As I have written about recently (HERE) I have begun a new round of antidepressants after a particularly trying bout of depression. It was not your typical gray depression, but rather it was a life changing kind that required action. Not just action from an outside source, such as an antidepressant, but also action in changing my life, and the way I think to be able to sustain a more positive lifestyle conducive to me needs. I'm not going to repeat everything here that I have said in so many other posts, but to paraphrase; depression is often a signal from our subconscious that something in our lifestyle, and way of being is not congruent with our needs. This is not the whole of depression, but it is often at the root.

Almost immediately after beginning my new medication I could feel a difference. It's a med that I have been on before, and have found it to be really effective for me, even though it seems to not agree with a lot of other people. It was as if it were made just for me. Suddenly, I felt a surge of energy, and a renewed sense of purpose. There were so many things I wanted to do, and experience. It was like waking up from a long sleep where I could finally do the things I could only dream of before. Suddenly, my dreams could be a reality. Life became clear again, and not this long drawn out painful, confusing fog that I had to fight to just survive through each day.

Aspects of my personality began coming back that I hadn't seen in years. Things like

I Can't.

I can erase, and begin again so many times with this post, but in the end I know it doesn't really matter. I can try to craft an entry with words that captivate, and lend ease to reader's sense of imagination who happen upon my words, but that is not what this post is about. That is not the content I am able to put forth today. That is probably my least favorite form of writing. I like to write freestyle, letting the words pour out of my fingers almost as quick as I can think them. I like the freedom of the words showing up on the screen in front of me almost quicker than they can be recognized in my own head.

Truth is, right now I am not able to write any other way. My ability to speak, relate, hear, understand, and just be near people is severely compromised. It isn't purposeful hiding. I have hit a place mentally I cannot people. I can't hardly write. I can't hardly speak. I can't hardly think.

I just can't.