Reading blog posts from years ago, I feel like that person is a complete stranger. What happened to my drive,my energy?
Did my joie de vivre elope with my raison d’etre, leaving me standing at the altar?
Sometimes I feel quite angry at my body for this betrayal.
Honestly though, this feels so much like the grief process. Perhaps it is a mourning of sorts.
Step 1~ Pretended I had control over it. Take meds, lower stress, improve diet. No problem, I got this!
Step 2~ Pretend it doesn’t exist, buy motorcycle, weave like a manic, life is good ! (Weave on the loom, not on the bike!)
Step 3~ Depression. Something ain’t working right. I can’t get my big girl panties pulled up, no matter how hard I try. Won’t someone save me ?
Step 4~ Despondency and guilt. If I were a better person, better character, more faith etc. This would go away.
Step 5~ Anger. Life’s not fair! Why me?
Step 6~ Acceptance. Let’s give the fucking son of a bitch a name. Umm, ok. Maybe I’m still just a wee bit pissed off!
Somehow, accepting seems the hardest.
And then there’s Skyler…
My beautiful granddaughter, diagnosed with Hashimotos the week after her 11th birthday.
How do I teach her to live with this when I’m doing such a poor job of it myself? How do I teach her to fight, to put one foot in front of the other when both of mine plus butt are in the recliner? What kind of modeling is that?
Yet the ability to do anything differently is so far beyond me right now.
So there’s the question.. and probably the path to acceptance. Grief always carries lessons with it, what’s it trying to teach me this time?
Is it like a reincarnation thing? Listen here Nancy Beth, you gotta keep doing this til you get it right? WTH? Really? Surely not!
A sweet facebook fiber friend wrote me a note last night and offered a book that had helped her to deal with thyroid issues. I was able to say ‘thank you’ and accept the gift. I am so excited ! Thank you for the book, and the opportunity to practice receiving Mary.
Walking with a stick some of the time is causing a drastic shift in perspective! Becoming aware of things previously unnoticed, the height of a curb, the blessing of bars on the wall in a public restroom and how the hell do you manage doorways? Realizing how very ableist I am.
Also.. man, it’s hard to go out in public like this! I’ve heard rumors I had a stroke or a heart attack. Singing drinking songs in the coffee shop probably don’t help the rumor mill much either!
Maybe I’m just supposed to learn to not feel sorry for myself?
I woke up terribly embarrassed about my very public pity party yesterday, but then had three text messages from people dealing with the same thing.
Seems like a good reason to continue.
Love from the holler, Nancy