From 7/13/2007

I'm working on trying to get my shit together. I worry about it all the time. I worry about how much energy I have and how much I had last year. I worry about what happens when I get sicker and can't do what I currently can do.

I'm combing through all my old emails - and I found this one written to my dad and a couple other people.

I have a hard time saying things. I'm much better at writing what's wrong. I'm having a really hard time dealing with whatever is wiping my energy out. I keep thinking that if I can't figure out a way to get everything done my mother may have to come live with me again. And I don't want that, but I do need help. I hate admitting I need help. I used to be able to do everything on my own, and now I can't. I don't shower as often as I should because it takes too much energy. I never do my hair. I only wear makeup for special outings and in general, I feel weak. Laundry is hard. Dishes are hard. Taking the trash out is hard. I want to organize everything but I no longer have the energy. I used to spend most my free time organizing things - rearranging clothes, sorting through all my belongings and finding a better way to store them. I like doing it, but I don't have the energy to do it. When I try I have to stop because it's just too hard. So I've been reduced to sitting at my computer watching TV all day, and I hate that.

I keep thinking how much easier things were when Darin was staying with me, or when my parents are staying with me and the last thing I want to do is admit that I need someone to live with me to help take care of me. I want to be independent, but I may have to suck it up and admit I can't do it alone.

I always feel really guilty asking people to help me, and this is why I've been out of sorts lately.

I think I'm just going to stay at home tonight and think about what I have to do... whether I admit to my parents that maybe it's time we hire someone to clean once a week (because hell if I can keep up with the dusting and the vacuuming - I can't even take out the fucking trash).

Or if Dad has to come down every other weekend to help me clean up, or if I can work out a schedule of people here who could help me. I don't know.


It's amazing how little things have changed. I still worry about all of this. I still want to be organizing all of my things and making my living space look perfect. I am still afraid my mother will have to come live with me. I'm still afraid to talk about this or ask for help. A lot of good two years has done...

What have I done in two years to make this better other than worrying about it??? Nothing. I just don't know what to do.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

CF Contact

Image
Me and Trinity: What a cutie! Chest PT on a baby: The Cystic Fibrosis Foundation discourages any contact among CF patients. Personally, I think this is overreacting at its best. Yes, some precautions need to be taken, but it has been blown totally out of proportion. I am writing this because the other night at Concert on the Square I held Trinity. Her mom handed her over to me, and we were talking and then she told me that Trinity has CF. I asked if I should take precautions and her mom said that it was okay for me to interact with her - and I feel that as long as the parent says it's okay, it's okay with me. And I did her chest pt - and it was a nice break for the parents. They have three children under three and two of them have CF. They have a 3-year-old with CF, an 18-month-old without, and Trinity, 2-months-old, with CF. If any family needs a break it's this one. I have always wanted to work with CF kids - and I know how much the CF Foundation would have nothin
Read more

Abuse

 Abuse. This is going to be long, but it’s important.   If you only read the beginning, I want you to know:   If you are a survivor of abuse, or going through an abusive situation, you are not the abuse.   You don’t have to let it define you, and while it’s hard to move on, you can.   I want to end the stigma for abuse victims – which is why I’m writing this.   I want there to be stigma for the abusers, not the abused.   I need to practice saying, “My mother is abusive.” I don’t know why it still hurts so much so long after it happened.   I know she still hates me.   My dad has to be careful mentioning me to my mom or she’ll flip out.   Why does it bother me so much that someone who could be so awful to me doesn’t like me?               A few days ago – January 10 th , a memory popped up of a note I had typed in 2008.   The gist is, I was sick.   My mom was staying with me and I was doing home IVs.   Keep in mind I was 21 when this happened.   I packed and took my 9pm IV dose w
Read more

Social Media Break

Today, on Facebook I posted, "I want to delete my social media apps for the entire month of October, or until I'm feeling better, but I know I'll never be able to do it.  I rely on photos of friends' kiddos and food and sewing projects to keep my spirits up, and I worry about my CF and Transplant friends, and I want to stay in touch with everyone.  I want to encourage my friends who are also going through tough things and just be there to support anyone who needs a supportive ear.  So I won't delete my social media, but I won't be monitoring it as closely.  I'll be limiting my time spent scrolling, and I'll avoid all the political articles.  Go to my blog for the longer explanation of how I'm doing."  Yesterday was “Mean Girls” Day, October 3 rd , and George suggested we watch it.   I know he wanted to cheer me up and help, but I got sucked into the internet – again – and ended up binging on articles about PTSD.   I read about PTSD and chronic
Read more