There are some days where I sit and I stew, alone in my room. Okay, really, realistically it's only Sundays that I do that because that's the only day I am allowed upstairs by myself. Yep, you heard correctly, allowed upstairs by myself. The other six days of the week I'm either downstairs or with my husband. But it looks like my husband and I cannot even go out anymore if I want to see my in-laws on a Sunday. Let me explain.
My life feels like it is spiraling out of control. I can't climb stairs on my own because I pass out, and I mean I pass out a lot. I've fallen down the stairs, I've hit a gravestone while at a cemetery and been airlifted to another hospital, you think of it, I've probably done it. We're looking into it more fervently now than we had had in the past, but I guess I'm just getting frustrated with it.
Being chronically ill is absolutely no joke. It isn't a walk in the park, it isn't fun to stay home all day and do nothing. Believe me, I love being home with Syrus, but I would give my left thumb to be working a job and bringing in income for our family. Because let's face it, this blog doesn't bring in nearly enough.
As a teenager, I never thought that this is how my life was going to pan out, and then at fourteen, WHAM, I was struck down with these illnesses. I hate having to be taken care of by my husband and my mother, but on the other hand, I know that they do it out of the love that they have for me, and I could never thank them enough for what they do for me.
Sometimes I even feel like I am a horrible mom to my son because I can't get down on the floor and play with him because I can't get back up. And nowadays, he can tell when "I'm going," which means that I'm going to pass out. A seven-year-old shouldn't have to deal with that, and yet here we are.
Am I lamenting? Sure, perhaps I am. But I want to share with the world that chronic illness is real. It is real, and millions of people have to deal with it, in thousands of different ways on a daily basis. We try our best to live as normal lives as can be, but sometimes that's not even enough. We're stuck in this never-ending spiral that goes around and around and around. Like a vicious merry-go-round that never stops and is surely no fun.
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