My mother likes to say that I have spent my life standing on the corner with my hand out taking every thing that the world has to offer. And by everything that the world has to offer she means whatever diseases or illnesses that no one else would want – I take them on. I laugh along with my mom and whomever else she is talking to, but deep down it kind of hits a nerve. I usually try not to let these things bother me and I work really hard at not allowing the various things that I struggle with affect me emotionally. Really hard.
And then I have moments.
Moments where it all crashes down and I get sucked into this feeling of sadness. Almost like I need to throw a pity party for myself and not let anyone know. I think the rainy day today is having that affect on me. Ugh.
I feel at times that there is this expectation that everyone has of me, even Babe (he just doesn’t know it), and that if I fail to live up to it people will be disappointed. It’s almost as if I have to put on a face and let everyone feel better while I feel this all on my own. I guess this blog allows me to air out my feelings without hurting those who know me, as no one who knows me knows about this blog. It’s a self-preservation thing.
Babe knows this blog exists but he has no interest in reading it as he knows that it is my version of a diary and respects my privacy. There is nothing that I write here that I wouldn’t tell him, he’s my best friend after all, but I definitely appreciate his support.
I struggle with my emotions about all that I’ve been given – rheumatoid/psoriatic arthritis, ulcerative colitis, psoriasis. That saying ‘whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ goes through my head from time to time but it makes me wonder how much more do I need to take on before it does kill me? I have been blessed with an amazing Baby and wouldn’t trade anything in the world for that, but is she really this great (knock on wood) because I’ve had such a struggle with life?
I’ve been sick since the day I was born. I was breech and 4 weeks early, covered with eczema, 9 & 1/2 pounds at birth and lost 4+ pounds within my first month. The first time my grandmother saw me my hands, feet, and tongue were black as I had stopped breathing. I contracted whopping cough and gastroentritis, and spent the better part of my first year of life in the hospital. As a child I was painfully shy, had a crazy amount of anxiety about social settings, and had my knees drained every so often from the juvenile arthritis I had. I had weather related asthma (worse in winter), couldn’t play in long grass I had an allergy to it, and hated being away from my parents.
Teenage me was plagued with horrible acne, the kind that accutane was supposed to fix but I think that caused more damage than what it was worth. A few years ago I would have told you that if I could do it all over I would take that drug again, my story has since changed. I would make big changes.
Here I sit, a 30 something wife and mother and I still struggle with acceptance. Maybe my post on the ability to accept change needs to be rewritten. When will I accept that this is the life that I’ve been given? How does one accept that?
Is it fair of me to wish that my siblings got some of the things that I deal with? Is it normal to resent them because what they struggle with isn’t even close to what I deal with on a day-to-day basis? Why do I feel guilty about hating my health situation most of the time but can’t say it because I don’t want to upset my parents? They made me, I’m sure they feel guilt about this all, and that my mother tries to cover it up by making jokes. Like mother, like daughter.
Am I allowed to let people know that I’m angry? Can I share my real feelings with people or is it better for everyone that I keep it to myself? Who really benefits from this?