To Sink, Float or Swim. The Doggy-Paddle of Despondency. Who Wants Lemonade?

I’m sitting on a fence of indecision.  On one side is a sunrise, full of possible promise, yet uncertainty and the unknown.  On the other side is a sunset, full of vagueness and disquiet and yet also the unknown.  Oddly both sides have their appeal and it feels as if both sides are pulling at me and I’m fighting to stay balanced on this thin line.  I need to make a decision but even the thought of doing so makes me uneasy.
What if I choose wrong?  What if I’m not ready?
Yet if I wait, I might just get sucked into the unknown and the disquiet. The inner turmoil is crushingly overwhelming and more than a little daunting.  I am in a place where rationale does not exist, doubt and skepticism run rampant.  I know what the next steps should be, but seem to lack the motivation to take them.  It really is a confusing place.  It’s like being caught in a web, if I thrash around it secures my predicament; if I stay still, it ensures my predicament. Where is the happy medium?

I was cruising along at a forward pace, unhurried and sluggish, but forward nonetheless. Then out of nowhere comes this wave of emotions that I am not prepared for, that drag at me and pull me down.
I have only enough energy to doggy-paddle to keep my head above the swell.  Blindsided.
I’m left feeling like a bystander in my own life. Fully aware of what needs to happen, of what path I need to follow, yet unable to take the needed steps. Not from inexperience or naivety, I’ve been down this road before; more from a feeling of despair, misfortune and adversity.

I know I’m strong, I know I can beat this because I’ve done it before.  I have a much better arsenal now so I know I will be fine.  The last time I was displaced like this, I allowed myself to be sucked down to the bottom and there I wallowed for far too long. I wasn’t strong enough, I didn’t have a strong enough foundation built up and wasn’t able to keep it all from crumbling and I was too proud to reach out for help.  This time is different, so very different.  My foundation is solid, I have the strength of those around me to draw on and the self-respect to do so if needed, I am aware of the resources at my disposal and I know that I have so much still to look forward to in this life.  I will persevere.
I just need to remember that some days the fog obscures my sight, muddles my thinking and tempts me with shiny things.  I lose sight of what’s important.  Sometimes life throws me a lemon the size of a bus and my juicer is ill-equipped to handle it.

This time is and will be, different.
This time I can identify it for what it is, as unwanted as this ‘feeling’ is, it is not unfamiliar. Knowing is half the battle, as the trope goes.
I am on a voyage that I definitely would not have chosen for myself and certainly not at this time, but I will make the most of it.
This will not be my undoing.
It will take time and most definitely patience, not just on my part but on those I love as well.
This is not a means to an end, in fact I am enlightened enough now to know that this is but a stepping stone in the thoroughfare of life and only I can choose which direction I need to go.

But for now I will find a comfortable position on this here fence, take the necessary steps toward healing, do my best to not get stuck in the muck and the mire, try to think positively and be thankful it’s not electrified.

Well, I’m off. But not running, ‘cause stuff jiggles.

 

Hate Mail, Hopes for Happyness and Here’s Feelin’ Mid-Blue

Hate Mail – undelivered; undeliverable; but oh so full of hate.

Oh Fibro, how I hate you.
You make every day a new adventure, and not of the fun kind.
Forget who you used to be, this is the new you:
Forgetful, spacey, feeling lost;  losing your train of thought and falling silent not realizing you were even in the middle of anything; the list goes on.
Fibro doesn’t care; it can take a sharp mind and render it blunt.
It strips you of the qualities you once took pride in and leaves you a shell of your former self.
You can fight against it and even think you’re succeeding in moments of clarity, when you think you’ve raised above and can finally breathe; but don’t worry, the evil fingers of fog will pull you back under.
There is no escape.
There is no ”getting better’.
There is no permanent fix.
There is only getting through each day to the best of whatever ability you are granted at that moment. It could change in an hour. Heck, it could change in 5 minutes.
Not a fan of change..? Too bad. You have no say any longer.
This is the new reality.
Oh Fibro, how I hate you.

The Hopes Part…

I wrote this as a Facebook status two days ago.  I find it odd that it didn’t even receive one single comment or ‘dislike’.
Well, I don’t really. Find it odd, that is. No. Not really.  I think mostly because I understand how it could come across as whiney, or self-seeking, or something along the lines of  ‘Oh pity me, look at me, feel sad for me.’
Which is so far from the truth.
However, rewind 10 years (do we still say ‘rewind’ ?)  and were I to read this from someone as a status I may think the same thing.

I was having a flare-up day; a sad, sad day. A ‘wish I could crawl into the back of my closet and hide, hide until I feel better able to face the mirror, hide until I can do people’ day. They happen.

Ha. I was going to write more there, as in a frequency quantifier, but there isn’t one. They just happen. Boy, do they happen.

So yeah, I made it through the day though. So there’s that.

The Light, Mid, Dark Part…

If I were to classify how I feel in shades of colour, { I’d prefer to use purple but blue is so much punnier so it will have to do and easier to rhyme with too.  See what I did there? } Today I would say I’m mid-blue heading toward light-blue. Which is good. Today was a good day.

The day I wrote the above was a dark blue day, most definitely.

So there’s that too.

Well, I’m off. But not running, ‘cause stuff jiggles