The first night coming home, I slept. I had somehow developed a rash, hives of sorts and the itching was and at times still is unnerving. I started taking anti-anxiety and benedryl. This combination makes the eyelids extremely heavy. Morning came and I attempted to walk out to the chicken coop and check on my gals. This didn't seem to ease any anxiety or bring any joy. I felt out of breath and when gasping could feel the drainage tubes in my chest. To add to this, I couldn't seem to hold any food down. I constantly felt nauseous and dizzy. This began my spiral downward. Thoughts stacked one on top of the other. "You won't be the same." "You've lost your beauty". "Nothing will be the same". "Nothing can make you happy anymore". and over and over. All I wanted to do was crawl back into bed. Silence the negative voices and let my body feel relaxed. I let sleep take over for most of the day and night.
Sunday came. I heard Bill and Elizabeth getting ready for church. I wanted to get up, I wanted a reason to get up and go, but I could find none. I was begining to not care. The anger was building. Why did this happen? Again? Why me? When? When would this end? When could I be done? When would I care. Did God still care? Did He still love me? Why did he allow this to happen? Why didn't He prevent it? I pulled the covers off the bed and found my way to the couch. Maybe if I got away from my bed I could pull myself out of this. I spent the morning watching TV. When Bill and Elizabeth got home, I only found myself angrier. I wanted to be left alone. I didn't want to feel. I think you can see where all this is going.
Monday morning I arose to my dad's voice in the living room. I could hear my Uncle Josh telling him, "Come-on, just go with me." I smiled. They reminded me of teenagers. I got up shortly thereafter, to find the house empty. "Good. This is good, I can do this," I told myself. I fell into my routines of coffee, picking a few things up and general stay-at-home-mom stuff. I was glad to have my kids back at school. They had each missed a few days for the last couple of weeks. When I feel especially ill (physically) I like to have one of them (or both) home to help me. I know, not the best thing for a mom to do, but the best of the situation.
Somewhere in those early days I heard a song, "It's not over yet". The words stuck with me to "everyone who's hit their limit... it's not over yet". I didn't want it to be over. I don't want to spend the rest of my life like this. So yesterday, I made the proclaimation. It's NOT OVER. I WILL MAKE IT THROUGH THIS!!!
Love you, love me, love you, love me!
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