Tired.

I’m not sure if I can get any more tired.

Daily, I struggle with the pull of my own body’s failings.

How do I shake it off, when each time I think I can, something else is first added on, and then I have to start all over?

The drag of each next appointment. The lack of motivation to work. The slow removal of the ability to work. The diminished quality of my work.

How can I convince myself to continue with school and work, when I can barely keep my head over the “to do’s” continuously trying to drown me? I do I keep up my effort to stay above it? How can I keep up?

The pain is growing. Even just weeks ago, I considered my pain more of a “come and go” type of pain, with a very low level of continuous pain. It has changed. For weeks, the continuous pain has been steadily getting higher on the scale.

I know mine is still nothing compared to so many out there like me, but pain is personal, and mine is overwhelming me. It exhausts me. It makes it difficult to think, to talk, to open my eyes, to smile. I’m tired.

I’m not sure if I can get any more tired.

But then again…I have another appointment tomorrow.

 

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Where the Heart Is.

We spend years fighting with our siblings, growing with friends, hurting each other and then making up. A large, complicated family and friends that have come and gone, there are so many things we take for granted when we are really young. Before moving away from home, I admired my older sisters, but practically hated them. I always felt left out and ignored. But, like magic, we were all grown up and we all began to respect each other, and even became friends. Kids started coming, and we got even closer, helping each other out.

When I was 21, I joined the military, and with very little notice, I moved. First, Texas for basic training and technical school. Next, England. I got to England in October. It quickly hit me that I was going to miss Thanksgiving and Christmas with my big, nutty family. I became depressed. I started getting migraines daily, and spent most of my off time crying alone in my dorm. A week before Christmas I met my now husband. He saved me. He is the only reason I made it through the holiday, through the first few. We since moved to Georgia, and then to New Jersey. Since 2009, I have been with my big, nutty family on Christmas on once. Husband hasn’t been home even longer, and Christmas has always been hard. After our kids came, Christmases were for them.

In waves, I feel this immense pull to be with my family. The sadness can last hours, sometimes days, sometimes a week or two. I miss that feeling of people all around; kids crawling and running all over the floors; people on every chair, in every corner, and in every room; the kitchen packed. I miss knowing that the 30 or so people in the same house all love me and I love them. I miss always having somewhere to go, people to see. I tend to fall into this TV/couch stupor, which only makes it worse, because I find myself watching shows like Parenthood, Brothers and Sisters, even Full(er) House, and other family shows/movies. I love them but they just make me hungrier for that big family feeling. (Why do I do this to myself?) I pull myself back out of it eventually, remembering that we can all still love each other when we aren’t together, and that we will see each other again.

But waves don’t go away forever; something always starts them back up.

I never knew how much I loved my having them in my life, until I couldn’t anymore.

Even with all of the moving and meeting new people and then moving again, I have managed to make a few friendships that distance can’t break. These people are my family. I love them, and I miss them just as much as I miss my blood relatives.

I love you all. I look forward to seeing you all again. As soon as possible.

As soon as possible.