Sunday, February 21, 2010
Tempus fugit. Time flies. Youth is wasted on the young.
All so true.
But, you don't really get it until you are of a certain age.
I remember my mom telling me all the time when I was a kid and a teen, that each year that passes gets faster and faster. I thought that was the most ridiculous statement I ever heard! A year is a year! Period. 365 days.
Somewhere in my mid-thirties I started to get it. Now, I know it is true.
So, what to do? How do live life to its fullest, to the utmost of your ability when you are saddled with chronic illness that impedes it?
How do you do it when the mind and heart is willing but the flesh is too weak, too painful, too impaired?
How do you not become endlessly frustrated? Like the Greek legend of Sisyphus, pushing the gigantic rock up the hill and having it fall back down on you crushing you for all eternity OVER and OVER again?
Oh. Were you expecting me to have some wise and wonderful answer to give? Some glib answer, or pollyanna-ish retort saying 'don't worry, be happy'?
Because if you were expecting that of me, hoping to read that today, you are in the wrong place.
Nope. I don't know how not to be frustrated because I am. I am frustrated. I am mad. I AM Sisyphus. I have good days, but know they will only be followed by bad eventually. I have bad days, knowing that the good will come too.
It is a roller coaster as chronic disease always is and I am always either on the hill ticking up to a high or crashing down to a new low.
It is very similar to dealing with death/grief and the stages of it. Anger, denial, bargaining, and acceptance, over and over and over.
There are days I want to scream, wail and keen, 'MAKE IT STOP, LET ME OFF'. Like now. Like today.
I wish that it could be different. I keep hoping for the next great drug to try that may be a magic wand, but truly, no magic wand will ever exist. At least not in my lifetime. The drugs will work and then they won't. There is always hope though, and I do cling to that. I have to do so. The alternative is less pleasant.
I see how easy it would be to spiral into a deep and lasting depression. I really do. The darkness is always there. Just nipping at the heels of the light.
I am in email loop with a group of women some of whom have been dealing with this disease for close to 30 years. Most of them are in the 60's, some in their 50's and one in her 70's, but they all have the same frustrations and maybe some more wisdom. We share each and every day about our lives, and our disease, and our coping or lack there of, and we know that no one else really 'get it' except each other. We cling to that. We have to because we need each other.
I haven't shared with my Loopies (our name for ourselves) my latest crash on the coaster. I don't know why. They will read this blog post and they will know it happened and maybe I'll be ready to talk about it soon.
I am not ready now. I want to get off the coaster.
I want the life that I thought I would have by now. I want the years to slow down because I will never be able to fit in all the things I want to do before I die. I want to take care of my parents, physically and monetarily and emotionally, instead of them taking care of me.
I want the ride to stop.
But it won't. Sigh.
Here's to hoping that soon I start to hear that ticking sound. You know the one I mean? The ticking sound that the roller coaster makes as it starts to pull your car to the top again.