I keep coming back and saying that I will write more because I've got so many stories to tell and then promptly disappear. I hate that so much because I want to write, especially more frequently on my blog.
I've talked a lot about my health (I think) because that's the main thing that keeps me from moving, being able to cook, enjoy my work, much less write. The thing is, I've kind of been in denial. Well not denial but...let me try to explain.
I push myself. Way, way,way too hard. Why? Because I like to. I love to try and learn new things and fully put myself into the things that I love. Unfortunately this applies to my health too. I've been fighting it mostly because I've been, I am wrapped up in it. I've been able to understand and accept that my health is extremely poor which causes me to push myself even more. Work harder, move faster, etc. Now it's gotten to the point where, and not necessarily because of this, I have to take a myriad of pills just to get through a four hour shift at work. I can't push through it or tell it to fuck off anymore. My health problems have risen up, gotten right in my face and said, "Hey, it's me. I'm not going away."
And that's what I have been unable to accept. I like to think that one day my health problems will at least get better if not go away completely but right now, they're here to stay.
I don't write much because my pain is my life and most days are the same and who wants to hear about that? This is weird for me to say because I don't give a shit what random strangers think of me so why is it any different on my blog? I think it's because all my life I've been the joker. I can laugh and smile and "look fine" when my body's about to collapse and I want to die because of the amount of pain I'm feeling. I can do this because I have always done it. All my life I have had to hide what I'm really feeling from people but so long as I crack a joke, especially about myself, everything is fine. And so that's what my blog has felt like: entertainment for other people. Which, of course, it is but I feel like if I don't have something funny to say, why write at all?
The thing is, I'm not fine. And it has only recently occurred to me (yesterday) that if I can, I need to write, especially when I'm feeling like hell because that's when it is most important to write. Sometimes my life is funny and I can joke but most of the time it is fucking horrifying
It's actually a bit embarrassing to me that it took me so long to figure this out and that it's okay, haha (Okay. There's your funny for this post.)
So right now I actually feel pretty decent. I had a good day pain wise both yesterday and--so far-- today. Just in case though I am writing this in the morning before I have to go to work and before it gets to hot to do anything but melt.
And I have lots of stories, LOTS of them to share. Some of them will be funny, like when I rescued a bird from the sun room when I had the stomach flu and almost shit myself, and some of them will not be funny at all, they will just be real. My life of pain.
That's all for now, I think.
Ta-ta,
Erin
