When it’s not pericarditis…Or easy…

…So, I’ve always been a proponent of “Life ain’t all purple painted ponies pooping butterflies jacked up on SugarSmacks,” right?

So, it should come as no surprise that occasionally (only so, mind you) I may have less-than-stellar days.

I make no apologies for this, as I verily believe that I take/make/create enough measures in my life to be able to warrant a brief reprieve from all that is puppies and kittens and tribbles…

BUT:

What happens when there is so much…so very, very much…that it threatens one’s desire to be…well…all “heroic” and shit? A mentor? An inspiration??

I readily admit that I am afflicted with a pain in my heart not related to a MI event…or even pericarditis.

I have a hole in my soul and I challenge myself to keep going.

Daily.

Let me paint you a portrait of myself as a Modern Day Atlas.

As an only child, I do not have the “extra” support of a sister to lean on, or a brother to chill’ax and watch the game with. Bit of escapism in support, I have not.

On my own.

My mother not only regularly cancels visits, but she and her husband moved, in fact, FURTHER away from us. From a jaunt in the city to butt-fuck-across the city.

On my own.

My dad has had no idea about my health issues and such, even after having been provided links to my blog or, in casual conversation. Could be that the “all that I have” is not something a dad wants to think of his little girl having been afflicted…*shrug*  So, I did what I do best: I wrote. I wrote my family to give them an update on ALL of my family here, as I believe connections are oh-so-very important in the preciousness that is “time.”

He asked further questions about the heart attack I’d had in December. I believe he was verily misinformed, or associated one condition with an event…dunno.

I got a response back of “Thanks! I have a better understanding of what happened to you and what you’re going through…….”

I, uh….you’re welcome? Genuine? I know he is. Fo’ SHO’!!

Um, offers to help? “What can I/we do?”

On my own.

My job is in my home. Daily maintenance is required, especially with seven people residing here. I caveat “Modern Day Atlas” with “Modern Day Cinderella”…’nuff said. One “absolute” that I continually ask for: “Please, for the love of all things holy…let me start my daycare day with a clean kitchen.”

I need help.

On my own.

I won’t discuss particulars regarding my husband’s spewage of blame in my direction, in all fairness, other to say, “Please send good ju-ju and healing vibes as his second eye surgery is today to fix up the fucktard’s mistakes from January 19th, 2013.”

Don’t worry, I’ve had to figure out the logistics of the entire household management during recovery and if it wasn’t thought of, it’s clearly because I didn’t have my shit together.

On my own.

As a health advocate and blogger, I continually put myself, my family and our journey out there in the hopes that someone will understand, relate, or get inspired to keep on keepin’ on.

BUT:

What happens when I am so tired, so drawn, from “health, health, health” and of “doing, doing, doing” and of “invisible, invisible, invisible”…?!?

You tired of hearing it? I’m sure as shit tired of spewing it. 

I desperately want to be “normal” healthy so that I can manage the chaos of my reality in a much better way. I’m tired of nutrition and medication and herbalism and the “need” to fix and manipulate and heal.

I desperately want the shadows of depression to clear so that I don’t have to battle cry, “Send Colour!!!” just to keep from curling up on the kitchen floor and cry-like-your-soul-is-breaking.

When you start to lose your sense of tangible "self"...

When you start to lose your sense of tangible “self”…

 

This is what I overcome.

Daily.

On my own.

I am the most popular Invisible Girl I know.

What happens now?

 

 

I think I’ll start perusing for some therapists to help me figure out if I need to own more of my shit. I’m okay with that.

I also figure it can help me solidify boundaries and expectations with others.

If I’m willing to walk the walk…I would hope it inspires other to do the same.

xox

One response to “When it’s not pericarditis…Or easy…

  1. Jason Robichaud

    Wow. its alright to not be the hero for one day or a few. To relax from the public who tell you you’re an inspiration and do your own thing. Owning your shit is what your doing and its OK to be scared to reach out a hand.

    Owning you shit to me doesnt mean you have to go out and do everything, you can pace yourself. (not that i’m trying to tell you what to do) I’m pretty sure what your doing is owning your shit. Dont feel guilty when it all cant be done.

    I am only child and not necessarily dealing with all the crap you do but I can understand when the fug hits the fan you want to curl up and hide. Asking for help sucks, currently have to do it alot more than I want to and the guilt of asking sets in.

    I’m always skeptical when it comes to therapists, Maybe more reluctant because i don’t want to hear the truth. But they can help.

    And my mind is starting to ramble, Im here if you need someone different to talk to.

    – Jayce

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