I'm in my bed. It seems I'm here most of the time these days, laying in between my rust orange sheets pretending like the world isn't there. This is my haven. This is my place of safety. Of quiet and rest. And I'm taking full advantage of it right now.
I can hear the rain softly falling outside my window, and the sounds of the piano playing on youtube. I can hear my kids yelling at each other laughing in the other room. I can hear Ty Pennington yelling in the other room. The rain is picking up now. As much as I wish it were snow, I love the sound of a heavy rain washing away the dirt and ugliness of this world.
I've been sick for a while now. Battling with fatigue and nausea. I've not had a fever but I've been pretty miserable. I went to the doctor this morning and they did a urinalysis and some blood work. The first thought was pregnancy, but as I've had that problem fixed, they're not worried about it. My blood pressure was low, and the doc is checking my thyroid and some other things. She gave me a shot of Phenergen for the nausea (perhaps my favorite drug) and I got a very, very good nap this afternoon. But there is no real reason for any of this that we can see yet. Basically no one has any idea why I feel the way I feel. No one, but perhaps, me.
I didn't bring it up today. I was going to, really, I was. But I just didn't. But I'm beginning to believe all of this is just depression. Anxiety. In my head. I don't know. None of my symptoms make any sense. You know, unless I was pregnant. Which I'm NOT. So... I don't know. It scares me a bit. I don't feel weepy. I'm not lying here in my bed crying my eyes out all the time. But I have been having a bit of a hard time lately. I'm irritated and agitated. I don't want to deal with people. I don't want to deal with my children. I want to sleep. I want to stay right here in my safe, cozy little bed and sleep. Where it's warm and no harm can come to me. I know. I need to get off my lazy butt and do something. I know.
Hey, my house is clean. That's something.
I have an apt on the 11th of Feb for my yearly girly check and if all of the blood work comes back normal and we still don't know what's going on by then I'll talk to her about it. I'll have to, as having a girl check will probably freak me the freak out anyhow. Bleh. The rain is picking up more. I knew you'd want to know.
I've not been blogging. I've not been going to church. I've not been hanging out with my friends. I've not been doing much of anything. A lot of it really is because I'm ill. Because when I move (especially yesterday) I vomit. And because my kids have been sick. And Eric has been working a lot and struggling with pain still. But all of these things, really, are nothing but excuses. I know that. And I hate it. Part of me wants to say 'you know what, I have every right to lay in this bed and do whatever I need to do right now to survive'. But there is a big part of me that says I need to suck it up and get up and move on with my life. I need to just get better. Even though I know it doesn't work that way. There has to be a balance. I know that. I know there has to be some kind of balance. I can't lay in my bed (as comfy and perfect as it is) all day every day, but there is no point in me going all psycho Suzie Homemaker, either. There needs to be some balance. I need to learn to forgive myself. Give myself some room to heal. In my head, I know it's okay to be where I am. I know it's okay for me to be in my bed where I feel safe. The guilt just eats at me and tells me I'm lazy and a bad mother and a bad wife, bad Christian. I know it's Satan kicking me while I'm down, I'm just not sure how to make him stop.
Okay, I just needed to blog. I needed to say that even though I'm laid up in bed, I'm still here. I'm still alive. I'm just in a state of... hibernation? I don't know. There are a lot of things going on in my head, but I'm not ready to go there right now. Thanks for just listening, though.
I'm a wife. I'm a mom. I'm a photographer. I'm a lover of Jesus. My house is a mess, my kids are dirty, we eat take out more often than not. My life is loud, busy and crazy. And that's okay with me.
This is Eric, the man you've been praying for. He's a paramedic. He quilts in his spare time. No, I couldn't make that up :) He has NASH (a form of liver disease, non-alcoholic) and diabetes, but those things don't define him. He's a man of God, an insanely wonderful husband, and the best daddy in the world.. Just ask these guys..
Our daughter Ali, she's 9. She's fiercely opinionated and strong willed. She's a Daddy's girl, but the umbilical cord hasn't but cut from me, either. She's a gymnast, and proud of it. She spends more time upside down or turning flips than she does walking. She's crazy smart, and absolutely sure of it. She is my insufferable little know it all.
Our son Dylan, 7. We lovingly refer to him as Chubs. Or Chubby. Or fat boy. Ahem. He is all boy, as you can see by his crazy wild energy. He has the highest pain tolerance of any child I have ever met. He plays soccer and does gymnastics, but truly he is a gamer, a nerd. He is an avid reader and loves to climb. Not to be outdone by his sister, he's a drama king, but to him, I'm the best mommy in the world.
I'm here to use my voice. So many people can't. In a world of darkness, I just want to help God's light to shine through. I pray that my words are His, and my love is His, as well. This is my journey through the darkness. To start are the beginning of the story, click here.