I know...I know.
I am not writing. It isn't that I don't have ramblings to type - good lord you should hear my head. My mind is a constant scrabble game of words. It's just that I have been busy.
And...I have developed this new thing where my legs are so exhausted at night they keep me awake. It's like I must get up and dance, but really I recognize it as exhaustion without the ability to relax. I cannot relax. What the hell is up with that? My legs require movement and they drive me nuts.
Then I find out this is called "Restless Leg Syndrome". Oh fuck me for yet feeling just one more thing with my body. What in the hell did I ever do to my body to piss it off in such a way that it makes every day living like a hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon with a 50 pound pack on my back and four inch heels?
So once again I am not sleeping through the night. If I was married I could drive my husband nuts through the night, but alas I only have the TV remote to torture.
I have received some emails from a few people wondering if I am ok. I guess if one doesn't go back into the old archives, they wouldn't know that I have been dealing with Hashimotos disease for three years now. Each day is a fight for me, I just don't always show it or talk about it. People don't want to hear about someone's illness. It makes them uncomfortable. Sometimes when I am at work, without makeup, hair in a pig tail and gym clothes, I wonder if anyone realizes the effort it took just to be there.
No, instead it is as if everyone wait for me to arrive to get things moving. I am followed about like a dog being chased by fleas. Perfectly healthy people needing me as their touchstone to their day, including my x husband.
Does anyone notice when I go off to a couch and lay down "just to rest a bit" ... or cut an evening short to go home to bed? Or that I often have to sit down to take in a conversation? No, I don't believe they do,because I am always laughing and making fun. I love to laugh. It's wonderful if I can get people to laugh at my craziness.
Maybe they need to think I will always be fine... that I am not sick... or note that I am in a fight for my life - especially the quality of my life. Maybe it scares them, so to pretend not to see my suffering makes them believe it will go away. Catherine the great always triumphs at everything - she won't let us down.
Now... my mother on the other hand just looks at me and always says "When was your last bowel movement?" I would rather she pretend I am fine, but no, she looks me over and grills me with medical questions. "Are those bruises on the back of your legs above those shoes? Are you going to wear those shoes?"
Or, "I see a lot of cleavage there , do you have a safety pin?" "No mom, we are not safety pinning my top" ...
It is the week of my birthday. Happy fourth of July to me. Yes, I was born at 5:30pm on the fourth of July many years ago. I was to go out of town this weekend, but I am not feeling up to it. Instead, I will surround myself with family and friends and look forward to a new birth year. Maybe we will cure this disease yet ...
I am thinking of college in the Fall....
C
