I do, I don't do "I do".

No, we aren't talking about my particular issue with marriage and how difficult a time my current hubby had convincing me to take that plunge. Haha, we are talking about my sister's! I wish her the best of luck, she really is marrying a genuinely good guy. I was lucky enough to be present for the proposal, and I was crying almost as much as she was!

Still am, actually. Why? Because I weigh all of 185 and need to make it down to 160 before her impending nuptials this coming summer. Spring? Fall...? She hasn't decided. (That's right, SHE. Because she has been dying to plan a wedding since she was born!)

The problem with losing weight as a person with M.S. lies mostly with the nasty symptom of fatigue. Do you know how exhausting it is to try to walk just one mile? I feel like I'm pulling a semi truck behind me. But, I actually don't eat very much, and my food diary would prove that! I ingest maybe 1200 calories a day. (yes, I admit it-mostly carbs...) I need exercise.

So what's a girl with M.S. and the evil sleepy fog monster to do? Kinect? No. Bought 3 workout "games" and brought it home, got out the yoga mat, went to town...... and wound up in a cussing argument with an inanimate object. How is it after 30 minutes of doing the workout sofreakingincorrectlythetvkeepsyellingatyoutogetstarted perfectly, and you're sweating and breathing somewhat heavier, you've only lost 40 calories? Boo! Waste of money! (Not to mention a very bad idea for someone that swears when angry. And gets angry because it's not a person, a child, or a cute fuzzy animal...)  

I don't know. I found a neat article for beginning runners, just 20 minutesX5 times weekly. Sounds easy enough. As much as I hate the heat of the outdoors, maybe I can convince the hubby to join me?  Or maybe get a jogging stroller? Hmm. Hmmmmmm. I would love to run and not die. Really. Maybe following this training would help?

For now, I will be resorting to crash jumping jacks in my bathroom. The small scale earthquake you just experienced was just me... no need to call the local news station!

Hatefulicious.

Yes, I created a word. I'm feeling fairly hateful, but, I would much rather ignore the negative energy that seems to surround the emotion known as hatred. And, thus; the word hatefulicious evolved. I'm an icious. Everything I do is icious. Delicious. Vivacious. Auspicious. Capricious. Even fairly Suspicious, but we'll shove that random tic back to the bottom of Pandora's Box. I am going to go out on a limb and say that the prettifying of the word doesn't actually do anything to the emotion. *sighs*

It isn't a pity party day, I'm not feeling sorry for myself, or at least, I don't think I am. But I've randomly burst into tears a few times in the past three or four days. I'm not depressed, I'm actually "fine" so I don't understand, nor do I wish to stop what I'm doing to focus on the feeling and contemplate why I'm dying inside crying.

I do hate it here. In this box. In this prison sentence of a life. In the heat. Where I really don't want to leave my house after 6 am in June. Because it's suffocating and so life-stealing. Someone drop the lock! (WoW joke. Ugh. Add another sigh, years later I still reference the evils of that game.)

I keep having nightmares that I'm running, and running, and going higher, and higher in a building... through trap doors, and attics, and more attics on top of attics, and hallways. I'm running from someone or a bunch of someones. The more recent dreams involve people I know, strong people, dying while I'm on the run. I always stop at some point and try to have a real life moment, an "escape" moment, but always, always; I have to drop real life and start running to survive. I don't know what it means. What my subconcious is trying to tell me I'm missing in my waking hours, but I would definitely say I spend most of my time running. And hiding. And distracting. And trying not to feel. Because feeling is admitting there is a serious problem, I am not normal, I am alone, and I'm hurting. Stopping to live and feel is hard, and

I don't know how to breach the stoicism

 I've developed; so why try?

This is hard. Being sick is fine, I can handle the sick part. I can handle the pain most days, I just block it. The vision I ignore, I've always had vision problems. The migraines are my normal, I don't remember not having them. It's the fatigue and the depression. It's the loneliness and the awkwardness I feel around people because I am uncomfortable and nervousness makes me talk funny, walk funny, and even act funny. At home my family has to take me as I am, and I'd have friends. I'd have someone that I could just go with once and awhile. I wouldn't be stuck. Imprisoned.

Knowing there is a whole world out there I can't be a part of? Lifeless.

I keep seeing ads for our church. Their tag line is: "Come to Life!"

It's mocking me.

Off to continue this ritual facade that has become such a complete part of me. I would have made a great actress. I'm even starting to fool myself.

Marred.

This has got to be the  l o n g e s t  I have spent on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Give or take a few memories that have haphazardly been erased by time, and we have a winner! *ding ding ding* Really isn't as pleasant as all that, but I'm trying desperately to diguise my trepiditions with bravado. Really. Trying.


The emotions will not be the first to be bottled up and corked, but they certainly hold the most pressure and are as resistant to dormancy as a child's volcano expiriment. (In fact, I have a suspicion that if it weren't for all of these bad memories, and their need to be buried deep within the bowels of my mind, I wouldn't have short-term memory problems.)

Days like this one are the reasons why God allowed for wine and the written word.

If it weren't for a good book and a tranquility in a glass, I would probably be in a wheelchair.

*If only certain other people in my life would realize how precious this time is in my life.*

Set the world on fire...

If you didn't already know me...

Hi, my name is Jessica. I slur when I talk. I get off on topics that are ridiculous because I can't get my mind to work properly and calm the f down. I am concentrating so hard on every single thing I do as I'm doing it that when you walk up behind me and surprise me, I'm going to bite your stupid head off! Oh, sorry. I'm just trying not to feel the pain in my hands/ass/back/feet/head/eyes and/or plummet to an embarassing death  fall and break a leg.

I'm not doing well right now. Every day is worse. Last night I mustered enough to go out for an hour and eat, but by the time I drove home I was varying 30-70mph and swerving all over the road. I'm so tired. I hate it here. I want my mom. My grandma. Someone to live with to help me so I don't feel so useless.

Time has come. Shoes and ships and sealing wax and all of that. My mind is breaking my body, though my body wills it not to.

A Long Drive

I hate seeing all of these Homegoods commercials. Really, genuinely, hate. I see them and think: "A trip to Marshall's or TJMaxx does sound like a good idea!" And then duuuuuuuuuh moment:

I can't go to Marshall's or TJMaxx, or anywhere out of town. Why? I don't know when I'm going to be tired, I get so tired while driving, and I'd be dead on my feet the entire time I was there after driving to get there.

I just want to be normal. And I wish my mom was here, she could drive me so I didn't have to. So. Now you know why I don't go anywhere, save the grocery store. I have to save all of my energy for the grocery store. :(

Lying to Myself

I have these wonderful days when I lie to myself and pretend I'm normal. Fine, whatever makes me happy, right? Wrong. Because then I have days like today when I think, you know what-I'm not "normal". I'm not even AVERAGE.

I won't ever shake off this fatigue, this complete exhaustion that feels like I'm drowning and struggling to escape the hands of the person drowning me. I think "I would love to do that! What a great idea! Wouldn't that make whateverroominmyhouse look so nice? Wouldn't my kids love to see/use/have/do/create/playwith/sing/read/youfillintheblankhere________ that?" But no, I'm drowning. Drowning in water that isn't quite visible, and fighting against an unknown assailant. (Well, MS, but you get the picture.)


Ugh. I have SO MANY THINGS I WANT TO DO. WHY!?! And to the counselor that lovingly told me to start asking for help within "my church family". What church wants ME as a burden? I need help. My house needs help. My ideas need help. My kids' rooms need help. My unfinished projects started and stalled on "good days" need help. I hate this.

Dumb@$$

What I want to call people who really don't understand that I am sick. I said on Facebook yesterday that I didn't care if my house was a mess, I was just glad to be getting out of bed!!! And I am. Or was. Until I once again got beat down mentally for having a messy house. Like I'm the sole reason for someone elses' happiness! (*tsk tsk*) Look, you should be thankful this house is still standing, I'm wearing pants, and my (your) kids have been fed and loved on.

And I'm not crazy. I have MS. I forget stuff. A lot. I get confused. A lot. Don't call me a retard because I kept pushing the wrong button on the vaccum thinking it was the "on" button. (I had been using it, plugged it into a different room; and because of how frustrated I was, I PUSHED THE WRONG BUTTON; and got angrier because I couldn't believe my NEW vaccum was already broke!)

*Sighs*

Another day ends in tears, and so completely enwrapped in failures. I hate this.