I am sat in the midst of a relapse, wondering what I can do to make things better.
What can I do to be better?
What can I do to stay better?
I just have to sit and ride it out. I have to take my abundance of tablets and ride it out the best way I can.
Opting for the steroid tablets meant I didn’t need the fuss of an IV nurse for 3 days. I didn’t have to keep my line open for three days (not something I have been able to do yet)
So I sit, not making a lot of sense, thinking about the last week.
The message. The phone calls, The waiting,
The waiting is the hardest part.
I no longer have help at the end of a text message.
Thats been the worst part.
The not knowing. The in-between counties, non-sharing hospitals and doctors who, sometimes, feel like they just do it to annoy me.
The panic attack.
The not coping.
The new plans.
The place I want to be.
The place I can’t be until I have ridden out the storm once again.
It seems like the more I strive to better myself the more it pushes back.
Sometimes, just sometimes, holding on is the hardest part.
Sometimes I just want to let go. Sometimes I don’t have the strength to push on.
Because it is exhausting.
Just living is exhausting. So adding the battle of overcoming your own bodies attempts to shut you down can feel impossible.
But I am one of many people who live this.
We live quietly. Never quite being understood.
We are not dying of a disease.
But I know some days we wish we were.
Because that would be easier for someone to grasp. To understand.
Instead, we go on living. In a body that has no clue how to act or react.
Not knowing what pain or grief tomorrow brings.
But living anyway.
As best we know how.
Holding on at the fingertips.
Just getting by.