Days go by

“In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die: 
Ever drifting down the stream- Lingering in the golden gleam- Life, what is it but a dream?” ― Lewis CarrollThrough the Looking Glass

Today is a good day. At least, I think it is.

It’s funny how you can wake up and feel like things are good or they are bad…or they just are.

The older I get, the more it feels like time is just an illusion – we believe it keeps a steady pace, but it rushes on and slows are the most inopportune times.

I’ve been very self-examinatory lately. My oldest child will be turning 18 in a few months and finishes high school this school year. My middle child is turning 16 soon. My youngest is going to be 4 in a few months. How has so much time already flown by? How can my first baby have gone from being in my arms to preparing for her adult life?

I’ve never been a perfect parent. Far from it I feel. I feel that I’ve missed too much, not done enough, not been enough. I try – by all the powers, I have tried.

The days go by at a pace that leaves me behind. I remember when my eldest was born, how hard it was. I remember when we adopted my middle child, my sunshine boy. I remember the fear of having a section when I had my youngest – he decided coming feet first into the world was a great idea (a week before he was due no less!).

I remember the first time I saw my first neurologist and was told I have MS. I remember my doctor telling me I have osteoarthritis (I was even younger then). I remember the first time I smoked a cigarette, I remember how I quit but not how long ago it was. It feels like forever.

I can’t remember my first kiss, but I do remember my first real boyfriend.

Memories.

They are so easily lost.

I find myself constantly trying to remember. My brain has become my enemy and I try to befriend it again over and over.

Days go by, but the memories ebb and flow.

Dirty Vegas – Days go by

Heavy

“Duty is heavy as a mountain, death is light as a feather.”  ― Robert Jordan

Mental health is a battle. A battle with yourself. A battle with society. A battle with perception. A battle with judgement.

Battles aren’t meant to be fought alone. A soldier never enters a field without his fellows.

When I hear the word battle, I think of something tragic, hard, frustrating, painful. Mental health is all of those…and more.

No one chooses to have to deal with all that. No one wakes up in the morning thinking, “Hey, I think I’ll be depressed today and not function in life.” Who wants that? No ONE.

With chronic illness, comes a host of chronic issues. Depression. Anxiety. Fatigue. Feelings of inadequacy. Regret. Fear. All of those and so much more.

Every day I wake up, I prepare myself for battle. Some days, I rock it. I win that day. Others, I flounder and trip over the simplest things and feel the judgement of the world on my shoulders.

“Love yourself!” That’s what I always hear from others. “You will never be happy with yourself, until you love yourself.” I really wish it was that easy. I envy those who are capable of doing just that.

Every day I wake up wondering if I will ever be enoughEnough for my husband. Enough for my children. Enough for my pets. Enough for my job.

I want to sleep. Not the regular type. I want to curl up in my bed and not move for days. But my body aches throughout the night, my bladder wakes me up. My hips tell me I can’t lay for too long and I have to keep moving. I have to keep going. I have to keep working.

For now, I have to keep moving. The weight of everything weighs on me, and I have no idea how to set myself free.

Linkin Park (feat. Kiiara) – Heavy

Under Pressure

“I’m not in this world to live up to your expectations and you’re not in this world to live up to mine.” – Bruce Lee

The last while I have been under a tremendous amount of pressure and stress. Physically, my head literally feels like it’s full of pressure – and I usually end up exhausted and with a migraine. Mentally, the anxiety attacks seem to be happening more.

I need to give myself a chance to breath.

My home life is stressful and I’ve been fighting for help. We’re finally getting it. I can breath a little.

My work life is stressful only in so far that I have not been functional enough in my opinion. I need to do more – my head is numb and full of pressure. I have a hard time thinking, concentrating, dealing with my task that are normally so simple to me.

My beautiful cat, Spice, somehow got out of our house on Monday – she’s so skittish and scared that no one can get near her and she will not enter the live trap we borrowed. My heart is breaking. She’s such a sweet tortie girl.

We’re trying to renovate our house and we are going on a whirlwind trip soon. Money money money – must be funny, in a rich person’s world…right? (thanks for that ear worm ABBA, I love it).

My expectations of self are higher than my physical reality. I need to remember that if I am not in health, I cannot care for my children. If I am not focused on being healthy, I will not be there for my children in the future.

So much pressure in my head and chest. I want to crawl into bed and sleep for a month…I have to work. I am the sole breadwinner for my family right now. No rest for the wicked (with MS), right?

Queen ft. David Bowie – Under Pressure

Silence

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.”
Jalaluddin Rumi

Sometimes, the silence is too loud.

Sometimes, the silence is a clatter in my mind. It deafens my spirit.

Sometimes, the silence is too much and the noise of life can’t be heard through the din of silence.

I’ve had a lot of ups and downs over the last few weeks. Some of my own doing, well, most really. I would like to think I control my emotional responses to that which occurs to me, but I know that thanks to my MS, that isn’t always the case.

I usually keep silent to what is my inner turmoil, allowing my husband brief glimpses of what is eating me inside out. My children sometimes see the aftermath – lack of patience, inability to focus on a conversation. Moodiness.

I try to hide it, but I’m not very good at hiding.

Sometimes it ekes out when I least expect it. At the start of a conversation, I just stand there with unfelt tears falling. It’s only when they cross the threshold of my cheeks do I realize I’ve started crying.

Mostly, I try to silence that part of it, burry deep inside and live in the now. But it weighs me down, anchors me into my seat until I feel as a statue – made of stone, incapable of movement.

The silence envelops me in those movements. The lack of movement stiffening my joints, dragging my body further and further down, into my chair that is. Breathing these days feels heavy, tight.

Then the music starts. My body wants to move, to live. My spirit shakes off the shackles of the silence.

The sounds of life filter in around me. They wrap around my frame in the warmth of sound. A blanket covering my body in a will to be.

The silence is no more.

Delerium – Silence feat. Sarah McLachlan

Dream On a.k.a It’s 2017, Let’s do this

“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.” ― Oscar Wilde, The Critic as Artist    

“Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.” ― Edgar Allan Poe, Eleonora

I couldn’t pick which quote I wanted more today. They are both so apropos.

I dream big. I fear big. This causes an unending stream of anxiety and depression with massive ups, and terrible downs.

I love to create. I love knitting, reading, crafting, writing. My body, though, hates me. My wrist cause painful numbness in my hands (carpal tunnel), my back and neck crick and crack (osteoarthritis in my upper spine), my hips bemoan me (bursitis, sciatica – I fell down some stairs almost two years ago and still have not healed). My knees snap and crackle with derision (possibly arthritic), my feet prickle and groan when I walk (plantar fasciitis), and the mind grows exhausted; ever fighting the good fight (Multiple sclerosis).

I still dream big. I dream of being so healthy that not even my kids can keep up. I dream of hiking again in the woods, following what ever deer trail presents itself. I dream of creating creatures from clay, writing my ever more distant novel, completing a tome of poetry. I dream of recording myself reading to my youngest, singing lullabies, rocking it out at a concert without needing a seat close by.

I dream of being free of anxiety and fear. Confident in every stride I take, every word I write, every thought spoken.

I dream that this year I will finally find a way to make it all happen. That the pain, fear, anxiety, exhaustion will all fall away with the spring rains, and never return.

A woman can dream, right?

Aerosmith – Dream On