I'm starting to look back on my former poor health of the previous decade as the good old days. On top of my pregnancy-related fatigue and stomach problems, I have been dealing with what I suppose would be termed the flu this past week. These days it's a big deal if I pick up my daughter at school or put in a laundry.
I just have nothing good to say about being so sick for so long. I am swathed in anhedonia. I'm just in it. "It" is a joy-free place where I try not to hate myself for not wanting to connect with my husband, who is also my best and only helper. "It" is a place where I can barely remember that I'm blessed with a growing baby in my womb. "It" is a place where I can get it together to teach my one class but I come home and shut down again. "It" is a place where I can still love my daughter and engage with her but I wonder what effect it has on a kid to have a mother who is so severely joy- and energy-depleted.
"It" is also a place where I feel really, really alone without the accompanying feeling of yearning for companionship. I feel literally inconsolable. I'm an extrovert usually, but in this place I am an introvert. I want a cave to crawl into.
I still haven't let go of my ideas that everything is spiritual/energetic and I'm in the ongoing throes of some sort of karmic job/cleansing. Goody for me, hey? The seeming endlessness of my ill health (as I've mentioned in previous blog entries) culminating in my present semi-invalid state does give cause for asking the universe if I can finally stop always having to learn the things the hard way. Nope.
Sometimes I compare myself to the human race, which is by all appearances even more afflicted by having to learn the hard way. Look, when you're this sick and miserable and no answers are forthcoming... I, anyway, think of all the poor fuckers strewn across this beautiful and fucked-up planet who are struggling, struggling, struggling. So much fucking struggling.
On an intellectual level, I am grateful to my decent husband, my warm house, the food that makes me feel sick, my health care card, my bath tub, etc. On an emotional and physical level, I know all about struggle to fucking keep my head above water. It's difficult right now to think of myself as one of the lucky ones. Drowning is drowning.
It's not like the dark night of the soul (that phrase is like morning sickness; how about dark seasons/years/decades of the soul? How about all-day-all-the-time sickness?) and I have not met before. I have been down this path before. I get that I'm in some kind of major transition period (again). I obviously survived the last ones. I gotta say, this one feels, even if empirical evidence suggests otherwise, much more iffy. I'm not actually dying but, fuck, do I feel like I am. Oh merciful
God (no harm in addressing one), can I get a fucking break and while you're at it could you throw a few to all the other poor suffering fuckers?
Post a Comment