Monday, November 12, 2012

Crying in My Hands

I didn't go to church yesterday morning.  The alarm went off and I felt like death.  Literally.  The windiness that brought the cold front also blew about allergens that kept me up sneezing and coughing all night.  It was worse than usual.  I think to myself that I don't want to spend the rest of my life being as miserable as my allergy-ridden father.  He had to take a shot every day, or every week--I don't remember exactly because I hate shots and wouldn't watch.  He is constantly congested and doesn't sleep well either.  We always joke that we can tell where he is in a crowd by the sound of him clearing his throat, which he does every minute or so.  My mother says that sound is comforting.  To me, it's the sound of misery.

I don't function well without sleep.  I have nightmares, so sleep doesn't come easily to me.  My allergies make it 20 times worse.  From early February's tree pollen to late November's weed pollen, I'm miserable 10 months out of the year.  If it's a warm winter like it was last year, then I'm miserable ALL year long.  Allergies can't compare to cancer, but they contribute to bronchitis (a sickness I struggled with when I was young), asthma, acid re-flux, and a poor immune system in general.  I drink eight to ten glasses of water a day. This keeps my mucus from being super thick, and it makes it a little easier.  I avoid ice cream and milk products, since they do the opposite of water.

Back in high school, I ran four to five miles during ragweed season.  How did I do that again?!  I ran this past weekend, and with the wind blowing everything around, I couldn't breathe.  My legs weren't hurting.  Heck, I wasn't even tired.  I just couldn't breathe.

How did I run two miles in 13 minutes?  With asthma?  I hate getting older.  It's becoming increasingly obvious how hard it is to keep up with things that used to be so easy.

After waking up at noon, I walked into the bathroom and looked at my red eyes.  I started picking at my face, messing with my eye brows--you know--doing all my little ticks.  Then I started crying.  Breck tried to understand why.  For a second I realized everything that I was struggling with--I would be dealing with it the rest of my life.  My OCD, the asthma, allergies, mania and excessive spending.  The weight crushed me.

I always thought I could conquer the things that ruled me in high school--but here I am, still dealing with them.  In fact, the emotional side of me is even more screwed up now then it was then.  I'm working on it--and I guess from what people tell me, I'm better, but I just don't believe it.  You know what I mean?  I feel like I am fooling everyone, and I really am just as bad as I always was.

With my health always in a limbo, my sleep pattern so jacked up...the physical exhaustion just piles on to my emotional mess.  I want to be more than this.  I want to be the girl my husband thinks I am.  I want to be that amazing and carefree--that beautiful.  Casting away all these problems and cares and throwing my  head back in a smile would be wonderful.  It's never that easy.

I hate the cyclic feelings.  I hate that I always end up here.  Tired.  

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