It’s 4 am again.
I slept for about 2 hours last night, somewhere between ten and midnight. But I woke up in a panic, heart pounding, body aching. It felt like the sweat was pouring off of me. I laid there for another 2 hours, praying to just fall asleep so that I wouldn’t feel the crushing anxiety or the burning pain. It didn’t go away.
So here I am. It’s 4 am and I’m on the couch writing. I’ve spent the last hour digitizing my calendar system in hopes of making myself more organized. I’m loving the Google calendar app. I’ve eaten my spoonful of chocolate frosting, scoured Facebook, and played all of my turns on Words With Friends. I’d watch TV now but I’ve finished every episode of every season of every show I’ve ever liked. Any suggestions?
Ok, so here’s the real illness talk now. About a week ago I realized that I have been moving out of the denial stage of grief into the angry/sad/depressed stage. It hasn’t been fun. I’ve had to come to terms with the idea that my dream job (flight nursing) may never be a reality. I’ve had to view my future from a spoonie-colored glass.
And honestly, it truly is just depressing.
My mom has had FM since she was in her early twenties–about my age. I tried to explain to her about how hopeless I’d been feeling, about how it was just really hard. I just needed someone to listen and say, “Yeah, I’ve been there. It sucks.” But my mom is a do-er. She quickly replied with her usual, “You can’t focus on that. You just have to keep pushing through. You can’t let this stop you.”
I’m not planning on letting this stop me. I am pushing through. I’m pushing through each and every day that I choose to get up and go to class and clinical and I’m pushing through each night I spend furiously typing away at homework assignments. I’m pushing through when I’m leaning heavily on my cart grocery shopping. I’m pushing through when I don’t think I can push any more.
But just because I’m pushing through doesn’t mean that I’m not still hurting.
I must say that the most comfort I’ve found in the past few days has been reading the blogs of other spoonies, searching for those to whom I can relate. At this point, I’ve stopped trying to overanalyze every aspect of my treatment. I’m just searching for evidence that there are others out there like me. Thank you to those of you that have shared in this way. You are a greater blessing than you know.
Well, good-morning to you! I hope you have a spoon-filled day.