Many have said they believe I’m still using a verbal filter when I blog and they think I could be more raw … So here it is…

Being chronically sick sucks.

These illnesses give you a break but don’t ever go away. They are powerful and take away your positive mood in an instant.

I’m a very happy and jokefilled person. I love to make others laugh and laugh with them but when my pain gets to the point where I can’t ignore it, I am the nastiest bitch. I am miserable.

There’s not a lot of time between the transition once I notice the pain threshold is cracking.   I warn my husband before social gatherings, “when I need to leave, we leave”. Of course he agrees and we don’t take 2 cars.

Well…. From the moment I give the warning “its time to go” and being ignored…several times. It takes about an hour for me to lose my shit … I snap, then everyone is moving.                 Every. Single. Time.

Imagine a big laugh with a big smile within minutes turn into a very fashionable nasty miserable monster. My voice goes cold and loud, my eyes go wide and bulge … I start to sweat and my patience has no virtue…And then I leave. I barely say goodbye. I’m out. My only goal is bed…and sleep. I need to shut down and shut it all out or many will pay.

This becomes a jekyll and hyde situation. People in my company are like “wtf is wrong with her or what a nasty bitch”. But they can’t imagine or see that my insides are on fire and attacking my every joint and muscle. You’re not much of a happy camper when your eye ball is swollen.

They don’t see me dealing with a dull annoying ache in my body the spreads to others parts and intensifies as the day goes on. They don’t see that the laughter that was fun has turned into painful cheeks, teeth and bleeding gums.

It sucks and it happens everyday. Some part of my body is in pain.               Every. Single. Damn. Day.

I went to see my bestie on Good Friday. We have a blast together. She’s truly the only person I’m genuinely raw with other than my husband. We bitch about life using scarcism. We laugh hard. So… towards the end of the night we sat and rested. And when we got up… we moaned and groaned from the stiffness. I felt like a 90 year old that ran a marathon. I couldn’t walk. I had to shuffle to the stairs and rest in order to climb up them. Then I had to take one stair at a time. All while thinking ” ain’t this a bitch… I help my bestie with dishes and clean up and now I’m a fucking 90 year woman who can barely move. At least my hair looks good ( I just had it done). I can’t move but my hair looks fucking fantastic. If I fall down the steps like Aunt Bunny (Eddy Murphy reference), I’ll break something but my hair will be on fleek for the paramedics and hospital staff”.

Being sick sucks. BIG TIME!

It sucks because you want to have fun and you want to be social but in order to live longer, you have to rest. There’s all these limitations … Your body reminds you of these limitations but you are not known for that, your known as a party pooper.  The person who leaves early at every social gathering…

How the fuck have I of all people turned into the party pooper??? Me? !! The dancer ( yes I can still shake my ass … for an entire song). The wear 5 inch heel shaker (this is an out right lie… I would literally be killing myself if I wore these now ). The shopalcolic with no money maker ( I online screen window shop now… It’s boring as hell). The find laughter in any situation jokester(this is my talent, my humour is demented).

Yes! I am now a party pooper who poops on da PAR TAY !!….

Why ??! Because my body is the ultimate asshole.

My body is such an asshole now that if I don’t practice yoga every other day, it makes me pay. It screams bloody murder. You can hear it ” you lazy ass, move, challenge me, or you won’t be doing a damn thing. I’ll make sure of it”.   And this is what happens…I can barely move.

I sacrifice a practice to celebrate an event and I end up the party pooper. All I get excited about is my bed. “Fucking fantastic, its what I’ve always aspired to be. ” THE leave events early PAR TAY POOPER ”

 

Ask for help… I hear this often and so I do but there’s also a unwritten limit with each person. When you’ve taken them at face value and ask for help, after a while you’ll hear ” what do you need help with?” Or you’ll get “the look” of wtf do you want now ?”

That’s when you want to respond with “what the fuck do you think ? I need help with something I can’t do. Obviously… that’s why I’m asking, jackass”.

I don’t use this response very often… It’s not very effective. Lmao. I choose not to ask instead. I go it alone. I’d rather challenge my disabilities then depend on someone who thinks I’m a nussance.

Being sick sucks … You want to live life at the same speed as everyone else. You want to go go go .. experience life and make memories but if you don’t rest … memory making can be limited.

But I try to live anyway. I try to get the best quality of life when I’m well. I laugh hard often. I challenge my body and its strength regularly. And… I rest when my body tells me… I give in. Because giving in means my quality of life lasts longer.

Being sick sucks. Not living sucks more.

Keep fighting..

Live anyway…