I'm scared, worried, insane
I've lost the ability to tell if I'm getting worse or failing to get better. I'm so tired, constantly. Every tiny exertion wears me out for days. I know that it has been this way for months, but despite my admitted feeble attempt at journalling, I can't tell if each day is worse or if it's just that it's more hours of more days.
I'm scared that I'm going to become more bedbound. (Now I can sit up most of the time, which happens to be in bed because that's the comfiest place to sit. But more and more I can't even sit up all the way.) I'm so grateful that I can still get up and get to the bathroom or kitchen, but the pain, headaches and dizziness make it unappealing.
I can't speak much due to this STILL LINGERING sore throat, which is compounded by the drought/dry air and seasonal allergies. So I save my voice for talking to my parents on the phone or for people I see in person. Podcasting has been too draining to consider, between the energy needed and the challenge on the vocal cords and throat. Yet every day I wake up hoping to podcast. Needing to get my message out. Every single day.
I'm scared because I've hardly done anything toward packing and we only have two weeks and two days before the movers come to shift things. And for people who know us, we have a LOT of stuff.
It's making me crazy. I have a lot of generalized anxiety; depression comes and goes but is never far. I'm getting more and more trapped in my body and I am at my wits' end.
I know that there is hope, because a lot of the fatigue of the past 6 months is due to the heart/blood pressure problem and I will start medication for that in late September. But I have to get to late September and we have to find the right medication, which I am told can take a lot of trial and error with med and dosages. The problem, my GP says, is that the main side effect of those meds is fatigue. So it's damned if I do and damned if I don't.
I want to do things. I want to see people. I'm desperate to podcast, to blog, to finish my web pages. I NEED to pack. But I simply cannot. Each day is a mental struggle trying to accept that it's not my fault; it's not laziness or a lack of wilpower or any of the other moral failures that it FEELS like. But even when I can forgive myself I still believe that -- even though it's not my fault -- if only I could summon up more will, more inner strength, then I could perservere anyway. That I should be a superwoman and overcome no matter what the obstacle. Rationally I know that not only is that not true, it's not possible. But mentally I can't shake that feeling, can't shake the guilt that I'm a failure.
I know that most of you don't like reading whiny stuff and I don't have anything more to say that isn't variations on these same themes, so I shall stop wallowing out loud.