In the almost 3 months that I have had Fibro, a lot has changed. At the end of spring semester in early May, I was pumped about school. Yes, pumped. Probably the first time since elementary school, take that as you will. Anyway, I was pumped. I finally figured out what I wanted my major to be, what I wanted to do with the degree I was now aiming for, and I was picking up a language. Yes folks, I was going to study Cultural Anthropology and I was learning Chinese. And I was damn good at it too. I was going to specialize in East Asia, particularly China. I was going to travel there and learn and be a bonafied expert in China. Then, I was going to come back here and educate people about China and other people in general, because face it, we live in a xenophobic world and the world is shrinking, like it or not. WE NEED TO LEARN HOW TO GET ALONG. And I was going to help that. I was going to foster learning and growth and understanding. I HAD A PLAN.
It has been just shy of 3 months. I can no longer remember how to write out characters, or even read them. Hell, I spell “no” as “now.” Quite frequently in fact. I can’t even get myself to drive to school. And i don’t even have books because I’m not working right now because of Fibro and asthma. So long excellent paying job at Amazon, so long. I am also paying for all these meds, gas to get to appointments and I have my wedding coming up (30 days left 🙂
………….. :sigh: life has changed. Somethings have been slow, some have been fast. Me no longer caring about school, has been these past 2 weeks. I have missed 3 out of 3 days, and I don’t know if I’m going tomorrow. Tomorrow may be one of those days where I lay in bed pretty much all day. It could be like today where I was going to go but the roads flooded pretty hardcore, and I need new brakes. Or, I may be my own worst enemy. I may be too insecure to want to leave the house to drive an hour to school and face my scary new Chinese professor (she visited last semester. Not a fan) But it doesn’t even have to be my professor. This summer, save for Dr appointments and the occasional visiting of friends, I have stayed in the house. In the same room. Because I am afraid to leave, because I don’t want to be out there, alone. If He is there, I’m ok, I look forward to it. But he works 2 jobs, so I am frequently in bed with no one to keep me company besides people I have found online, and the cats.
I have lost a lot. Proper body function, my mind to fibro fog, my goals, my drive, my connection to people. And I know I started out in a rant, but now my eyes are misting up, and I can’t think of anything to make me feel better. I just want to turn off the lights, lay down under the covers and stare at a wall.
And I think I shall.