One of my biggest pet peeves is people who complain all the time. There is a big difference between honestly telling someone how you're doing and going to ridiculous measures to make sure they know every little thing that is wrong. Maybe I'm still majorly lacking the gifts of mercy and compassion but, even here in my better state, I run out of patience with that kind of thing easily.
With that being said, it's rare that people know when things are genuinely wrong with me. I complain about stupid things just because they don't matter and keep the real to myself. I don't know if this is a good thing, it's just my thing. The last few weeks have been really hard to do that with, however. Tonight was especially bad because I had a KILLER migraine, which wasn't easy to hide. I suppose I could have spent the night in my room instead of curling up in the Aframe, but there is nothing worse than feeling terrible while being alone and unable to sleep.
I'm beginning to think it may be to my own detriment that I do not share what I'm going through all the time. But I don't know. I'm torn...thus this ridiculous blog that just goes back and forth. So here's the thing...my back is killing me. Literally. Maybe 5% of people know this, and even then...yeah. It takes all my energy, sucks me dry, and leaves me emotionally wrecked for everyone else to deal with. It does not appear to be getting better. I am stuck in the body of a 70-year-old, with most of the limitations that come with that (except I still have all my teeth, thank goodness). Add every other stress, and suddenly I'm back to wondering how I manage to get up each morning.
But I can't go back there! That was dark and hopeless and meant sleeping 16 hours a day.
This is the closest I may ever come to complaining about it. I hate that I even said this, but if I cannot be honest here then I am at a loss for where would be alright. This feels unbeatable.
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