Shabby Miss Jenn

Thursday, March 24, 2011

No Rest for the Weary?

Alright. So I bought into the hype that this awesome medication would be the saviour of my days. It supposedly works in 80% of Multiple Sclerosis patients for relieving their fatigue, and it's been dubbed "legal coke". (And not Coca-Cola, either.) I shouldn't be shocked to admit that as of day five, it's done nothing for me.

I'm still so physically tired it's depressing. Overwhelming, actually, is a better word for it. Here I am surrounded by things desperately calling me to "pick me up!", and if I get up to move I start to swoon and fall. Hard. A kitchen full of pots and pans that haven't meaningfully served their purpose in life for quite awhile. And I love food, er, cooking... Children's rooms that are so far beyond messy they have been declared war zones. Laundry piled up on my chair to the ceiling, desiring folding and ironing. Okay, not the ceiling, but fairly close. So it adds to the exhaustion, because I don't do messes. At all. They instantly ruin my day/week/month/attitude...

...So what is a girl/woman to do? Seriously? And yes, I just said seriously like an annoyed teenager. Out loud. While I'm typing. And no one is in the room with me.

I'm having a continual argument with the creator of this blessed universe that goes something like this: What about MY plans? What about me being a mother? How am I going to XYZ? And most importantly: Why do I always let You down? He hasn't answered yet, or maybe I'm stuck in this muck of gloom and can't hear through the mud in my ears, but I suppose the answer is right in front of me. Or will appear, like some magician's rabbit out of a hat.

I hope and pray that it's pulled out soon, because I'm ticking off all of the reasons why I have this disease, and they aren't pretty. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say I did bring most of this upon myself. I'd take it all back, but there are blessings in this darkness, and their names are; Jackson, Cheyenne, Arianna, and Caleb.

Lesson learned: stop flying by the seat of your pants and grasping at decisions that weren't meant for good.

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