It’s hard to think that God planned this. The pain. That he looked at me, and said, “I’m giving her this. I’m giving her all these strange heart conditions that doctors don’t understand, but is okay because she can handle it”. Some days I just want to scream at God. Some days I want to cry to God. Most days, I don’t know how to handle it. I don’t know whether to be mad or sad. I have a love/hate relationship with this time of the year. December will mark 3 years since my first diagnosis. I remember sitting in the small room, thinking, “this is no big deal”. Little did I…
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In the eye of the storm.
I sometimes don’t talk about it, so some people think that I’m okay, or that I’m better. To be honest, I don’t know if I’ll ever know what better feels like. And that scares me. But, at the same time, I am getting used to feeling broken. To feeling like I’m stuck in this hole, and I’ll never get out of it. People have questions. They’re curious. But, explaining it is hard. Doctors can barely explain, so how can I? It’s like living in a cloud. Living in pain. The other day, for the first time ever, I started blacking out, and had somewhat of a convulsion in the middle.…
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A Letter to God From The Girl That Desperately Wants to be Healthy.
God, I hate this. I used to say that I hated you because of unanswered prayers. I’m sorry- I don’t hate you. I just hate this. The pain. The unanswered tests. The unanswered prayers. The longing to be healthy. I never used to despise medication until I relied on it every day. I never used to want to cry with medication changes. Now that I take three medications, 5 1/2 pills, a day, just to create a [hopefully] well beating heart that day, is exhausting. It might not seem bad to others, but every morning, and every night I have to take pills to correct an organ that should be able…
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Even if.
Many days I ask myself what I will do if this never goes away. What will happen if this is the plan God has for my life? Just one diagnosis after another, without relief. Some days I think about my life, and wonder how it could get worse. How much more could I handle? I hate answering the phone when the nurse calls, but at the same time, I know what to expect. Yesterday I had another phone call. Another diagnosis. Another thing to add to my list. Another thing to make life even more difficult. Another thing that is another answer. I hate to say that I’m slowly getting used…
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I want to be labeled as healthy.
7 years ago I made the decision to become a vegetarian. It was an innocent decision that lasted for a few years that way. Then it slowly started to become my excuse. My excuse to not have to eat much. My excuse I could use when I wanted to skip a meal. “Oh, there’s nothing here I can eat“ My excuse to eat as little as possible. Vegetarianism can be healthy. For me, it wasn’t about a lifestyle change or better eating habits- it was a way to hide the fact that I hated my body. It was the excuse that people would believe when I wouldn’t eat. Vegetarianism is…
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I am not okay- yet.
Today started out not so good. Long story short, I broke down in tears in the bathroom (even though I shed a few at my desk). For the first time I realized how much this was affecting me, and how I can no longer hide it. I never like to tell people how much this is affecting me. No one knows how bad it really is. Not my family, my friends, or even this blog. People will tell me, I’m so sorry, I hope you get better. All I can think is- if they only knew. If they only knew that what they see is a front. What they see is the me…
