Being ill sucks, but I'm glad it happened.
So as many of you know I am suffering from an 'as yet undiagnosed' disease. It's been a long seven year battle and at times it feels like I am living in hell. There are days where it's an absolute miracle (I kid not) that I am able to get downstairs and get my boys breakfast and lunch and simply take care of them.
There are so many days where I have no clue how I was able to do it, and there have been many days that resulted in me collapsing and laying on the floor unresponsive for a little while.
It's getting worse and things are getting more and more difficult but one thing has remained constant; my husband. Without him I don't think I'd be alive today and honestly he is the only person in my life I can rely on completely. Hell, he is the only person that I have ever been able to rely on.
I try not to complain or whine too much about my problems. I am luckier than so many, but there are days where it hits me so hard I can't stand it. On those days (usually when my hubby has off) I spend a lot of time locked in a room crying because I don't have the energy to play with the kids and we have no one to watch them.
I have a love/hate relationship with this disease. You all know now just much I hate it, so I will start to tell you where the love comes in. If I had never started getting sick in my late twenties than I never would have settled down, had kids, or even started writing full time. This illness was the turning point on which swings everything I have and am today.
Had I not gotten sick I'd still be a zookeeper, all alone, wandering the Earth like some crazy tiger wrestling nomad. (Ok so I've never actually wrestled a tiger but I have been face to face with one inside it's habitat. I've also brushed a couple tigers teeth in my time.) Sometimes I miss those days but then I remember how awful tiger poop smells and the missing ebbs. So there we have it; being ill sucks, but I'm glad it happened.
There are so many days where I have no clue how I was able to do it, and there have been many days that resulted in me collapsing and laying on the floor unresponsive for a little while.
It's getting worse and things are getting more and more difficult but one thing has remained constant; my husband. Without him I don't think I'd be alive today and honestly he is the only person in my life I can rely on completely. Hell, he is the only person that I have ever been able to rely on.
I try not to complain or whine too much about my problems. I am luckier than so many, but there are days where it hits me so hard I can't stand it. On those days (usually when my hubby has off) I spend a lot of time locked in a room crying because I don't have the energy to play with the kids and we have no one to watch them.
I have a love/hate relationship with this disease. You all know now just much I hate it, so I will start to tell you where the love comes in. If I had never started getting sick in my late twenties than I never would have settled down, had kids, or even started writing full time. This illness was the turning point on which swings everything I have and am today.
Had I not gotten sick I'd still be a zookeeper, all alone, wandering the Earth like some crazy tiger wrestling nomad. (Ok so I've never actually wrestled a tiger but I have been face to face with one inside it's habitat. I've also brushed a couple tigers teeth in my time.) Sometimes I miss those days but then I remember how awful tiger poop smells and the missing ebbs. So there we have it; being ill sucks, but I'm glad it happened.
