Writing posts for this blog has become increasingly more difficult with time. There comes a point when being ill stops being something you need to talk out and vent about and it just becomes your new normal. It’s just a (very big) part of who and what I am and I can’t do anything but accept it and go on with my life making the appropriate changes.
However, I’ve been kind of bummed out about my physical limitations lately so I thought I would sit down and put my thoughts down on (digital) paper.
My Dad is remodeling our living room. He ripped out the carpet and put in beautiful hardwood floors. I’ve tried to help where I can but I quickly discovered that there’s not much that I can do physically. I volunteered to pull all of the nails and staples out of the stairs that were left behind form the carpet the other day and I managed to get a lot of them but I burst into tears afterwards. Sitting at our kitchen table, having a glass of water on a break led me to have a bit breakdown. I was in so much pain and it hit me all over again how unfair this all is. I never thought that life was going to be fair but I’m only 28. I’m young, right?
I should be able to do anything and everything. I should be able to conquer the world but I can’t. I understand that I can’t but my understanding doesn’t change the fact that it sucks.
I don’t want my Dad to know how useless and incapable of doing things I am but he doesn’t read my blog (either of them, actually) so I feel like it’s okay to put this out there. By the way, he loves me and he wants to protect me and keep me safe and he doesn’t know that asking me to do things often means asking me to do things that are out of my range of ability so it’s not his fault. I asked if there was anything I could do to help him this afternoon and he set me up with a piece of sand paper and some paint. He asked me to sand the window frame he just patched up and paint it so I did but my hand locked up and I kept having tremors and I was terrified I was going to spill the white paint on the new floors. I didn’t say a word, and Mom I know you’re reading and I don’t want you to either. I will always volunteer because I want to help. I need to help.
I just wish I could do more. I mean, my Dad has cancer and arthritis and a million things wrong with him and he is physically capable of doing more than I could ever even imagine doing in my entire lifetime so I want to help him as much as I can even if it’s with things that I cannot do.
I don’t think I’ve mentioned this to any of you yet but you know how adult coloring books are all the rage? I’ve tried to color and it hurts so much. It hurts so, so much and I can’t do it. Can’t everyone color? Shouldn’t I be able to color? Coloring is easy and basic and even toddlers can do it, but I can’t.
I accept and understand that I am sick and as time goes on I probably will progressively get worse. I get it, I do, but sometimes I’m so angry and so sad and I can’t be at peace with it.