Yesterday, I cried.
It was a hard week for me, on top of which, my partner was gone for his military duty. It’s not anything unusual, I’ve been without him for longer stretches of time. In fact, he’ll be gone for a week soon and then in the summer, three weeks. But, this small stretch of time he was gone, was profoundly difficult for me.
I’m extremely lucky in that my children are, for all intents and purposes, adults. They range in age from 24 to 18 (all girls) and my youngest, will in fact, be graduating this spring. However, we’re still waiting on the younger two, to get their driver’s license. There really hasn’t been an urgent need for them to get their license with two older siblings and with only one of us working, we’ve been trying to delay the spike in our insurance again.
I do have help from my older two daughters. I often need them to run errands or pick up one of their sisters, especially when I am not feeling well. However, with the three older ones working shift-work, there are times when it falls on me to shuttle someone to work or school or bring them home. Luckily, they do not work or go to school far however, on those days when I am feeling especially bad, there is no other choice but to press on. My function as Mom has not ceased because I have chronic illness and pain; my function as Mom doesn’t get easier on days I don’t feel well. Sisters have fights; there’s drama on occasion and I have to be there regardless if I am sick and regardless if my husband is not there. Sometimes, it’s overwhelming. Sometimes, I break.
When he came home yesterday, I had a meltdown over something stupid. I realized everyone, including him, was looking at me like I lost my mind. He’d been gone and it hadn’t been a fun time for him either, and instead of expressing happiness that he was home, I got irrationally angry over something stupid. When we retreated into the bedroom to talk the anger dissolved into tears with me nearly sobbing. I was flooded with emotion and frustration over what chronic illness has robbed me of; continues to rob me of. Four years past from when this all began and I still continue to mourn my past self.
I write about chronic illness. I write about mental health. These are things I am intimately familiar with. I often read about how chronic illness and pain can cause depression and anxiety but in the context of a person who doesn’t already have this. I am bipolar with anxiety and OCD and I can tell you, that my chronic illness and pain have a profound effect on my mental health. The only analogy I can conjure is that of torture. Chronic illness and pain are a continuous assault to the body and mind. There is no respite from it, and if there is that brief space where you can breathe, it is short-lived, as the recurrence of symptoms and pain seizes your body violently and steals your breath. Now, imagine being tortured and having to continue with your day- continue with all the responsibilities entailed in that day- with a smile. Most people can’t understand what that must be like. It was certainly the furthest thing from my mind four years ago. Four years ago, pain, was something that could be fixed.
I try to live the best life I can. Most days I wake up with a sense of purpose and a positive frame of mind. I have to. I have a family who depends on me and while they may not depend on a paycheck, they depend on all sorts of things from me. Most of all, they depend on me being there as best friend/wife, mother, daughter and friend. These are the things I think about when I’m on that downward slide. But there are times when I need to cry and it’s okay. It’s letting a little of that ‘emotional steam’ out of the pot so I don’t explode like I did yesterday. We often hear about being positive and having motivation but this life we’ve been given is not an easy one and we aren’t un-feeling things. We need to cry and flail and get out our frustration or we’ll explode and become very resentful of our situation.
Yesterday, I cried, but today is another day. I respect my tears and treat them as a stepping stone; something that is needed for me to continue to thrive in order to be able to deal with this life I’ve been given. So, let yourself cry.
Please stay tuned for more blogs this month as I devote March to Chronic Illness/Autoimmune Disease Awareness.
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