I’m Going to Tell You How I Really Feel Without Holding Back

How are you feeling? As a chronic illness fighter/warrior/survivor, I don’t really know how to answer that question. 

It’s a tough question. Do you tell the truth, regardless of how well you know who’s doing the asking? Probably not. Not many of the spoonies I know do. It’s too much to get started with most people, and most only care to a certain extent.

Me? I have a circle of close friends who I will tell anything and everything. I’ll tell certain co-workers some things, but people are only capable of understanding within their own limitations, and most of them are pretty limited. 

I wonder if I’m doing myself any favors by holding back. Yes, I do hold things back, believe it or not. But for now, I don’t care, so here it is. I’m going to tell you how I really feel right now. I woke up at five this morning after not being able to get to sleep until sometime after one. I wanted to sleep. I even listened to a sleep mix on Spotify. It just hyped me up more, which is odd for calming music. But I’m used to not getting much sleep, so onward with my day I went.

I took my many medications, ate breakfast, got dressed, called my doctor for an appointment and headed out to the public library. Got there and their air conditioning wasn’t working, so I left. Around this time my body decided to bring a wave of nausea and dizziness. It knocked me to my knees, so now my knees hurt. It’s OK. I’m used to making a public spectacle of myself.

Now I’m home writing and feeling horrible. “Headachey,” “stomachachey” and off and on lightheaded. Not so different than I feel almost every day. All the time. Oh, don’t forget the pain. I wake up with it. It’s always there, lurking in the background. Sometimes my body will throw in fainting episodes and seizures that my doctors can’t quite figure out, or I’ll have trouble breathing and swallowing to the point that I can’t eat.

So, in case you were wondering, that’s how I’m feeling. Maybe it’s more information than you wanted. Maybe it’s not. I’ll still keep on keeping on. I’ll still be me. Maybe I’ll even put my feet up down by the river again.