I miss the days when I had the energy to go from one thing to the next. My weekends were filled with projects and plans. I did things. I felt inspired.
It’s Labor Day weekend – the perfect project weekend. And my body does not want to cooperate. Stiff. Sore. Tired. I made an attempt to get out and find some inspiration and be productive. I went to my favorite craft store, too. I walked around and enjoyed all the ideas of things I could do. I left without a project.
It was a sobering moment as I got into my car and took stock of how I was feeling physically. Stiff. Sore. Tired. Really like I am 60% of the person I was before. Ask my husband. He would tell you how I never used to sit still. I didn’t for long. I had things to do, and I enjoyed them. I had a hunger that I miss dearly. That hunger to learn and do and go.
I look fine. Save for the glasses I tend to wear now and the comfier clothes I prefer. Fibro and Sjogren’s will do that. They have double teamed me like invisible slugs. Slowly, they suck the life out of me. Slugs I can’t see. I can’t pull them off. I can’t make them go away.
Today, I mourned my 100% me. I know I’m not inspiring to be around. I’m not exciting. I’m not full of energy. I get to mourn that. It’s a helpless feeling. I can’t pretend I feel okay. Sometimes I can – when I have to dig deep, I do. I worry that this will be my faltering with my son. He’s 17. He’s a homebody. He seems uninspired. Like he’s not doing all he can do and being all he can be. He says he’s tired.
Boy, do I get that.
It makes me want to apologize to everyone, especially my husband and son. Sorry I’m 60% of the person I was. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want it. It could be much worse. But it feels pretty crappy, as it is. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do but surrender at times. Most times. It’s easier and doesn’t make my body hurt more.
Does anyone get this?