May or may not have had a meltdown with C today.

Okay, definitely may.

Fiiiiine... definitely did.

It's just... I've been in so much pain lately, and my fatigue has been thoroughly ridiculous. I'm really not even sure how I managed the honeymoon. I mean, how did I walk around at Sea World and Balboa Park all day? (Well, okay, I didn't. C pushed me around for a good chunk of the day, that's how.) It's nothing short of a miracle.

But I've basically been living in a giant flare hell-hole since the wedding, with a few brief surfacings for air and sanity. I actually had an entire 20 minutes without pain while I was on the acupuncture table the other day. Twenty minutes, y'all. I cannot remember the last time that I was not at least at a 3 on the pain scale for twenty minutes, and I got to be a zero. A ZERO! Yeah, it was pretty freakin' fantastic. I was very sorry when the flood roared back in.

So the past few days it's gotten to the point where just one painkiller doesn't take it down to a manageable level anymore. I can be on two at a time and I'm still floating around a 5 somewhere, barely hanging on to "I can function, I can function, I can... who am I kidding, I'm gonna lay down with my heating pad now."

I'm trying not to be poppin the pills constantly, I really am. I take baths, I stretch, I have the heating pad,  I get C to rub the affected area... and sometimes it helps a little, sometimes it helps some, and every once in a while it makes a noticeable dent for a little while. But always, always... the pain comes back, gnawing at my sanity, my patience, and my optimism. (Also, apparently my guts are back at the point where I'm not allowed to eat without pain, especially protein of any sort. Or fiber. Or... well...)

So today I went to pick up an over the toilet organizer rack dealie, because the new house (which we got the keys to yesterday!) has very little storage space. I mean, like none. No pantry, one cabinet in each bathroom, no linen closet... The only saving grace is that there's a closet in each bedroom and a coat closet in the living room. Oh, and a closet for the washer and dryer to reside in. So we have very limited storage, and I'm gonna have to get creative... and go through all my stuff again and be ruthless in getting rid of non-essentials.

Yes, so, back to the toilet rack. I borrowed C's truck and went to go pick it up. I got it home just fine (it's quite light), and even got it up to the apartment myself, despite, of course, being in bunches of pain and limping and all that... but I was so proud of myself for getting the rack up to the door myself without asking for anyone's help!

That's what did it for me. When I realized that I am now proud to have carried a 5 pound object all of fifty feet.... I pretty much just lost it. Because, really, that's something that I would not even have thought about in my "other life". I would have just grabbed that sucker and carried it inside, gone on with my day, and that's that. But now? Now I'm all like, "Look at me! I carried something! By myself! From the truck to our apartment! Yaaaaaay!"

It's the same feeling of accomplishment I get when I shower. When I shower.

Really? Really?!

So I dissolved into tears, because what kind of a life is this? A life where my accomplishments have been reduced to things so... so pitiful...

And I tearfully told C that I needed a hug, and he came over and wrapped me up in his arms and let me cry, and listened to my sobbed explanation of how sad I was, and how I feel like so much of my life has been stolen from me, and then he wiped away my tears and patted my hand and told me to lay down. So I did. And he sat back down at the computer and proceeded to remind me that I am so much more than just my sickness... I am a person, and being sick is just a little part of my life and who I am. Not only that, but I'm doing the very best that I can, so I just have to remember that, keep doing my best, and not worry about anything else. So I took that and ran with it and kinda pep talked myself back into feeling sort of okay with myself and the world again... and that's where I'm at right now.

I'm still sad, it's true. I'm grieving the life that was... I'm grieving the Saturday that could have been, had I not been sick. There are so many things I'd love to do with today... but I can't. I really just can't.

But there are things I can do. I can spend time with my husband. I can write a blog post. I can continue to plan and plot for our new house. I can go for a (short, very short) walk, and that's what I'm going to do right now.

I'm taking the stick, though.

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