The last few months have taken their toll. In the last five months, my (close extended) family has had over $25k of house repairs, a sudden cross-country move, multiple trips across the country, a wedding, an engagement, a new baby, a cancer diagnosis, and a serious crime that will head to court soon. In addition to all the stress and the difficulty of living in someone else’s house for the time being, I’ve dealt with three medicine changes in just since May, one of which caused a 10-lb weight gain in two weeks (whoops! They changed that one right away!), and one of which caused six weeks of major hellish side-effects when I got off it. I currently have no doctor, therapist, chiropractor, or friends in the area outside of family members. My oldest son turns 16 next week, the weather is turning cold out there, and my brain is still stuck in May when we first uncovered the house-issues that snowballed into most-of-the-above.
I chose Healing to be my one-word of 2016, and that isn’t going too well. I’m not healing in any way, mental or physical. It’s been nearly 14 months since I injured my ankle, and despite three rounds of physical therapy, it’s still giving me trouble. Thanks to medication shuffling, I’m up 12 lbs from where I started the year despite my best efforts to lose. My family is financially smashed and it will take a couple years for us to recover. I’m dubious about the psychological and physical health care I’ll have access to in this tiny rural part of Wisconsin, simply because there’s a limited choice of doctors available. And biggest of all, everything is pretty much on hold until we can move into our own place again. (Hopefully soon. We know where we’re moving now. Just have to do all the paperwork, loans, etc.)
It’s a bizarre situation when you feel like your life is both 1) frozen in place and you can’t wait to get started again, and 2) so rushed and packed full of Things that you can’t keep up with it. I’m so tired. In the last 2.5 years, I’ve moved across the country three times, nearly lost my marriage, regained 70 lbs, gone through hell in therapy to dig into my PTSD, spent hours upon hours fretting and worrying and trying to help my son-with-behavioral-issues, battled severe insomnia, developed an eating disorder, overcame binge drinking, and been on more medications than I can count. I keep wondering when the crap-pile dumping on me will run out of ammo. I want to be able to breathe again.
I need six months of absolute quiet, of 12-hour nights of uninterrupted sleep, of lots of hot bubble baths. I need to get my head above water. The cycle is vicious. I won’t feel/sleep better until I can move my body and eat decent food, but I can’t do that until I feel/sleep better. So I keep spiraling worse, and worse, and worse. And days when I don’t sleep – those are coming ever more frequently – compound the situation.
That’s why I’ve disappeared from Wellness Wednesday and personal talk for the last little while. It’s easier and safer to talk books and crochet. I haven’t really been able to talk about the guts of what’s happening. I’ve really missed having an outlet, though. I’ve been locked up inside my head too long. So here you go. One day – hopefully soon – I’ll be in a place (mentally and physically) to claw my way back to wellness again. In the meantime, I could use all the virtual hugs and positive thoughts y’all can send my way.