You’re only as popular as the number of events you decline on Facebook.
I have spent the last several months repeatedly doing the “you have removed this event” online tango. 🙁
That doesn’t even count the number of times I’ve had to decline/remove/bail out in real life. Today is one, in fact. Was supposed to go on a nice, leisurely photography walk with a friend.
Yesterday, however, I apparently pushed a boundary I had nary a clue was even there to being with. Flat out pushed right through the fucker and wound up today sitting in the recliner afflicted with some of the more serious anxiety spasms I’ve had for awhile now…so much so that I’ve a pinch in the side of my neck that makes me want to rolf from the pain.
Nope…today is yet another day, yet another peruse down the list of events I will not click as being “attending”…not that I’ll likely NOT attend…but, rather…that given I cannot dictate my condition from day to day, let alone hour to hour…I refuse to commit to something I might once again not be able to attend.
I am currently in a state of Chronic “Decline.”
How’s that for some kick-ass irony.
Now I see why people lose their sorts with the world…A photography walk. What could have been more relaxing? Casual chit chat. Beautifully sunny day…
Of course. The beautiful nightmare rays of death. Toxic, on occasion…like today, when I’m currently in the throes of a flare and detoxing from a chemically induced pharmaceutical HELL…
Where’s the good in all this? Well, I, for one, realize that sometimes I’m just going to be “hit-or-miss.” Suck it up, buttercup…At least by having that very same virtue of social media…at least I can still connect in SOME way…even if it’s not my IDEAL way…to my friends and family….
But, give me a little credit…do you know what it must be like watching the world continue playing while you’re stuck at home…”grounded”?? *sigh*
What happens when you’ve reached your quota of “asking” and I’ve reached my quota of “declining”??
This is most assuredly an anxiety I did NOT sign up for…
On another note…two days ago I gave Lyrica the middle finger salute. No more. Did it take away the pain? Yuppers. But when you wake up every morning feeling like a drunken sailor, having to will every bloody movement you make…fighting the urge to lay down and sleep for want of having to get your children up, fed and out the door for school…the mental strain was horrible. Actually, there must be a stronger word for it, but I’m so tired I just simply cannot fabricate one clever enough…
Two days. On both days I awoke and….GOT. UP. No “slurry” movements…no fuzzy brain…NADA.
Two days. Each day the swelling in my abdomen a little less than the day before…swelling to the extent of taking my breath away just bending over to put on socks. And it’s almost fuzzy sock season. This is significant.
No, seriously…If my abdomen was swelling to that extent, what was this shit doing to my INSIDES?!?!?
I might be back to square one…but it’s not without success…because I can say, without ignorance, that I tried it and that it wasn’t for me.
So, again, I’ll continue to endure, persevere…I received a message from my son, boy #2, the other day:
Him: hiii mom lol i guess from your picture thing ur bodoss* right
*I have “chronic badass” on my facebook profile…he won’t spell it out because he knows it’s a…uh…”shifty” word LOL
Me: LOL….kind of…trying to feel like I can fight all this illness stuff…
Him: thats because u can mom ur the best mom ever
At the end of the day, no matter how many events I decline, or how many pictures I’ve taken…THAT will be the quantifiable measure by which I will have lived my life.
Right foot…….left foot……..keep…….moving…….forward.