I am just so tired of this ordeal - this Sarc - that has imposed & super-imposed itself into and onto my life. This is where I always have that losing-myself feeling. My sister calls it having "momentary blues," and she always tells me to just try riding it out. Ride it out, pray it out, sing it out, sit it out, cry it out, feel it out. Just get through it.
The last time I felt like this, I listened to one of my mother's favorite songs ("This Too Shall Pass") and tried to think of everything she ever told me about getting through.
How do you ride out feelings that you are ashamed for having? I don't want to feel so shallow and selfish - and that is what these feeling are. I should be thankful for the doctors and my family and my friends. I should just be so thankful to still be here. And I am thankful, but I'm also just so tired right but. Tired of the medicines, tired of the symptoms, and tired of being such a bitch. I should be thankful that the people in my life haven't gotten together to smother me in my sleep. They don't even get mad at me. I go off on a rant about some bullshit like someone left the top off my baby oil and all I get are stares. Those stares say all kinds of things: "Ah, damn, this silly bitch here is losing a little piece of her mind again." Or, like with a spoiled brat kid, "Maybe after she wears herself out, she'll go lay her ass down somewhere and go to sleep." Or, "Help her, Lord. She really doesn't mean to be this way." Or (and this is the one that really kind of pisses me off), "I'm trying so hard not to laugh right now because this is cracking me the hell up!"
I have been able to find humor in this nightmare, but not often. Not today. It's early still. I'm praying for some more smiles.
Last night, I stood in front of the mirror for probably 20 minutes, just looking at my body and hating it. My family and friends say I haven't really changed that much, that I still am pretty and "Trudy." But they aren't in here looking back out at the person I see. They say that they remember what I looked like. I remember what I looked like, too. That depresses me like you cannot know. Such disgusting, shallow, human vanity. I never knew how vain and shallow I could be until all this happened. The thing is, I was never really vain before (?). You don't have to be vain when you look good.
I guess you never really think about how you look when you look okay. Well, I don't look okay to myself anymore, so I think about it all the time. I've had to cut my hair, buy larger clothes, soak my skin in moisturizers. I miss being able to go into a store and just pick any old thing from a rack and make it work. Shit - even something ugly works better in a size 4 or 6. (Get mad if you want, but that's just the way real life is for now.) I miss being able to wear my high heels. I miss being able to throw on a t-shirt for bed and feel cute. I miss being able to sit Indian style. I miss being able to trot up the stairs. I miss being me.
Even when I'm not feeling as miserable as I am today, I'm never as happy as I used to be. Happy is a whole different shade now. Happy is not just happy. Happy is not-crying, not-panicked, not-super-mad, not-laying-really-still-because-I-feel-like-I'll-break-if-I-move-too-suddenly. Happiness is not hearing Rick James in your head singing, "She's super-bitch, super-bitch... She's super-bitchy, yow!" No. I want to hear Prince singing "Irresistible Bitch" to me.
Yeah. I'm that kind of crazy today.
The other night, I sat outside at 2 or 3 in the morning (I can't remember exactly because I can't freaking remember things anymore!) and just tried to feel like God hasn't forgotten me. And I thought how horrible that was to want God to care about my shallow feelings. Like God should take some time away from those who are hurting over worse things just to tend to me. Like He should be over here taking care of me, his shallow, silly, problem kid instead of being there for someone praying for food, shelter or clothing.
I have friends and family who tell me that going through all this is making me a better person. What? Oh, really? So...they like that I burst into tears or go into screaming rages at odd moments? Do they like this Trudy better than the Trudy I used to be? Well, how the hell bad was I back when?...
One day (when/if I get past this), I want to come back to these postings and my journals. I am going to want to come back and take a look at this person I am right now. Hopefully (and I think about this a lot), I won't come back and read these to see that they make no sense at all. Another thing I think about. What seems so clear and sense-making now... Well, for all I know, this might all be just a jumbled scattering of confusion on a page.
(I'm going to try to go back in my mind now to the little church I grew up in. Always makes me feel better to remember how simple everything was for me then. I hope this will make someone else feel better today.)
"I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you." John 14:18