The Lies We Don't Mean to Tell
A friend, upon seeing me, asked "How're you doing?" I auto-responsed, "Fine, how are you?" She just kind of looked at me for a second and then she said, "I feel kind of average, I don't want to be here, and I'm frustrated with things at home. And you're lying." I was taken aback for a second, and I said, "No, I'm not!" She just kind of laughed and said, "Okay. How are you doing?" I thought for a minute. I looked at her, and she waited patiently. Then, very quietly, I said simply, "Tired." She nodded, and I think she knew I wasn't talking about the lack of sleep.
And I am. I'm tired. Tired of being sick, of feeling like crap. Tired of having no energy; tired of being overweight no matter what I do; tired of glucophage and how if I miss a couple of doses, I'm starting over with the sickness; tired of side effects like insane cravings and hot flashes; tired of the mood swings, headaches, and all the other crap that I don't feel like listing; tired of vomiting so often that I can actually see the bruises under my ribcage; tired of going through it all to find that it didn't work yet again, that it was all pointless. I'm tired of backaches and heartaches, of disappointment and hopefulness. I'm tired of medications that work for everyone but me. I'm tired of doctors, and needles, and dreading what is to come. I'm tired of the nightmares that keep me up and the looks I get from people who think they know something. I'm tired of trying to be okay with it all. I'm tired. I'm tired. I'm so very tired of being me. I am weary, and I am fighting to keep my head above water. I stopped trying to make other people understand, and everyone's a bit happier now that I'm not visibly tottering on the edge.
I don't know why the meds aren't working, and it's frustrating beyond belief. I am battling with the constant nausea from the glucophage. Again. And now, something's wrong; I can tell. I have no energy and chronic headaches, and the other issues aren't getting any better. And knowing that I have to go back sooner than I thought makes me want to cry. This is my reprieve, this "let's get the house sold to pay for the rest" idea was great because it also meant a couple of doctor-free, side-effect-free months for me.
There are few things that can truly beat me like this. This, this thing-I just get tired of fighting. And I know that I'm not done yet.
I'm tired tonight. It's been a particularly harder day than normal, physically, and the despair starts to creep in. I feel weak; I feel defeated. I don't even have the strength left to beat myself up a little for being such a wuss.
So, I do the only thing I can. I give up. I cry. I break down and reach for my Daddy. And He wraps His arms around me. He holds me until the despair leaves me and the hope can find ground again. He sends a friend to tell me a joke, a dog to show me joy, a client to tell me I've made a difference, and when I wake in the middle of the night, I write. I take the strength He lends me as I swallow the pill that makes me feel so sick. I mumble a prayer that's really not words at all, to keep the dreams at bay and still my mind tonight. I reach for my Andy, and for the millionth time, I ask that, if nothing else, he would not die without knowing my God. My muscles slowly relax and as I drift toward sleep, I know.
Tomorrow will be better.
Tomorrow will be better.
And I am. I'm tired. Tired of being sick, of feeling like crap. Tired of having no energy; tired of being overweight no matter what I do; tired of glucophage and how if I miss a couple of doses, I'm starting over with the sickness; tired of side effects like insane cravings and hot flashes; tired of the mood swings, headaches, and all the other crap that I don't feel like listing; tired of vomiting so often that I can actually see the bruises under my ribcage; tired of going through it all to find that it didn't work yet again, that it was all pointless. I'm tired of backaches and heartaches, of disappointment and hopefulness. I'm tired of medications that work for everyone but me. I'm tired of doctors, and needles, and dreading what is to come. I'm tired of the nightmares that keep me up and the looks I get from people who think they know something. I'm tired of trying to be okay with it all. I'm tired. I'm tired. I'm so very tired of being me. I am weary, and I am fighting to keep my head above water. I stopped trying to make other people understand, and everyone's a bit happier now that I'm not visibly tottering on the edge.
I don't know why the meds aren't working, and it's frustrating beyond belief. I am battling with the constant nausea from the glucophage. Again. And now, something's wrong; I can tell. I have no energy and chronic headaches, and the other issues aren't getting any better. And knowing that I have to go back sooner than I thought makes me want to cry. This is my reprieve, this "let's get the house sold to pay for the rest" idea was great because it also meant a couple of doctor-free, side-effect-free months for me.
There are few things that can truly beat me like this. This, this thing-I just get tired of fighting. And I know that I'm not done yet.
I'm tired tonight. It's been a particularly harder day than normal, physically, and the despair starts to creep in. I feel weak; I feel defeated. I don't even have the strength left to beat myself up a little for being such a wuss.
So, I do the only thing I can. I give up. I cry. I break down and reach for my Daddy. And He wraps His arms around me. He holds me until the despair leaves me and the hope can find ground again. He sends a friend to tell me a joke, a dog to show me joy, a client to tell me I've made a difference, and when I wake in the middle of the night, I write. I take the strength He lends me as I swallow the pill that makes me feel so sick. I mumble a prayer that's really not words at all, to keep the dreams at bay and still my mind tonight. I reach for my Andy, and for the millionth time, I ask that, if nothing else, he would not die without knowing my God. My muscles slowly relax and as I drift toward sleep, I know.
Tomorrow will be better.
Tomorrow will be better.
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