I've had a horrible day, physically and emotionally. And hello, by the way. It rained last night and this morning, and it was so hard to get out of the bed this morning with that lovely sound of rain falling. Since it was raining, the fibro has had me hurting all over. And for some indiscernible reason, all I've wanted to do all day is sit in a corner and cry. It hasn't been this hard to be without you for a few months now. I've spent the whole day being completely, totally, and in all other ways miserable.
It struck me today that I'm living to work and working to live. I'm sure that I'm not alone in that. I've found general contentment in my life - though not today - but I haven't found meaning, other than the general theological statement that this life is about preparation for the next. And this may be growing pains. It may be the point in this process where I'll have to wrestle with this.
I'm also fighting fear and despair today. I'm finally winning because logic always wins out. And fear and despair are grossly illogical. It appears that my head is beginning to get a grip on my heart. It's also starting to hurt; all this barometric pressure shift is giving me a headache. Or maybe, like Mama always said, I think too much. We used to say that the word "think" and the phrase "too much" can't be in the same clause without the presence of a negative particle, but Mama did have a point.
I think (there's that word again!) there are three factors contributing to today's funk. First is the fibro pain; it was so bad this morning that if I could have called in sick, I would have. Second may be a new stage in this crazy world I find myself in, where I have to wrestle with issues of meaning and purpose. Third is fibro exhaustion - I worked Thursday and Friday, mowed Saturday, went to church Sunday, and ran all day yesterday. Fibromite that I am, I can't do that many days without a break. The week just fell out that way.
So, O wise one, what do I do about all of this? First, I go check the basement and make sure the dehumidifier is draining. Second, I go to bed and get a good night's sleep. Third, I pray more. Fourth, I put my hand in your shoulder-dent in the mattress and cry myself to sleep tonight. It will do me good. Fifth, I need to be kinder to myself. I need to take my own advice and let myself feel whatever it is that I feel. Right now, I feel like my grief sutures just split and I'm dehiscing. (You have no idea how wonderful it is to be married to a man that knows what dehiscence is. And that doesn't think it's too disgusting to talk about. I adore you. Anyway.) I should expect to do this occasionally, probably for the rest of my life. I need to give myself a break.
Anything else you can think of? If so, come and tell me. In any case, would you please come and visit tonight? I'd so love to see you.
In case I haven't told you lately, I love you, adore you, and worship the ground you walk on,
P.S. - Spellcheck has no idea that dehiscence is a word. I hope it's innards fall out. :)