Sunday, 24 November 2013
Wednesday, 20 November 2013
The past week has left me tired and emotional. Every so often I feel like everything is a but too much all at once. The days drag out and the nights pass by in a flash. I can't sleep, I don't eat and I just want to curl up in a ball and cry.
This week is one of those weeks. I feel like no matter what I do, I just can't do anything right. I can't make my body function correctly, I can't be the wife my husband deserves, I can't be the friend my friends expect me to be, I can't be the coworker my team needs me to be and I can't find a balance. Everything just seems upside down and back to front.
It's not "I can't" forever, it's just "I can't" right now. At this point in my life I can't be the person who always sees the positive, I can't be the friend I used to be, I can't be the woman my husband fell in love with... and it hurts. It eats at me and I feel like a failure.
My strength is gone. The ability to plaster on a smile has faded and my eyes feel heavy. I need to recharge. I need to escape from expectation, but most of all i need the people in my life to understand that this isn't me. This isn't the real me.
I want to rewind time and be back at the place in my life where life was fun and I loved being me. Where I could hang out with my friends all night and go on dates with my husband without worrying about when my anxiety was going to kick in. I miss myself. I miss the girl I was.
I don't want to sit in bed and cry because I don't like who I've become. I don't want to be this person, the person who knows they are so much better then who they are right now.
I'm at a low point. I can feel myself withdrawing and it makes me feel guilty. I feel like it's unfair on everyone else but they don't seem to see how much it effects me. How much it hurts me to be the way I am and the pressure I put on myself to try and make this easier for them. I'm trying so hard to get back to normal and I can't. Not right now.
I can't understand what's wrong with me and thats incredibly frustrating because it means that I don't know how to fix myself.
I feel like a puzzle with a piece missing. You can see the whole image but the missing piece annoys you. If only you could find the missing piece, the puzzle would be so beautiful if it was complete. The way you remember it. The way it's supposed to be. The way everyone expects it to be.
I want to be this person. I wish it was as easy as deciding that as of tomorrow I'm going to be better and everything will just disappear. I've tried, believe me I've tried.
So for today, I just feel tired and emotional. But tomorrow I'm just going to have to try again. And the next day I'll try again. One day at a time until things get better, no matter how long that takes.
Monday, 18 November 2013
I personally don't care about my chubby thighs or pudgy fingers, the part of my body that I hate the most is the large jagged scar that runs from the bottom of my belly button to just below my hip line. It's something I can't change, something I can't remove and oddly enough, something that essentially saved my life.
That's the thing with most surgery, they don't do it if they don't have to. Without the ugly line on my tummy, I would have eventually had a 3kg cyst burst around my vital organs. If I could pick a way to leave the earth, a giant cyst rupturing inside me wouldn't make the list.
So, why do I hate it so much?
I hate looking at my stomach because it's a constant reminder of my internal imperfection. It's there every day and when I look at it I just feel angry. If it wasn't there, my life would be different. I'd have a full set of reproductive organs and maybe I'd have a family already.
But it's there because it has to be.
My doctor got up me when I complained about it. She said that although it makes things harder it's better than not existing, which was the alternative. She's a lovely lady who had twins via IVF due to similar circumstances to my own. She's incredibly positive and exactly what I need right now.
Tomorrow I have to get yet another blood test, show yet another doctor my scar, explain my story again and get another scan to try and find out what's hiding underneath. Worst case scenario, we'll need to add another scar. Best case, it's just 1 hour and 20 minutes of my time spent.
Learning to love part of yourself is hard. Learning to love something that symbolises what you see as a major flaw is harder.
Sunday, 10 November 2013