It’s truth time. It’s easy to write posts about the good things and the progress I’m making. It’s fun to write about having fun with friends. It’s also only a small fraction of my time. I still spend a lot of time on my couch. I spend a lot of time wondering what the hell happened to my life? I used to be busy all the time. By choice. I filled my life with friends and family and exercise and travel. I miss all of this.
As most of you know I’m an independent person. Often stubborn as well. My doctor called me fiercely independent which I really think meant stubborn pain in the ass. This translates to me wanting to be able to do everything for myself, but I can’t. I literally cannot do it all. I end up curled up in a ball upset about it. People keep offering to help, but I don’t know what to tell someone. I’m never going to be the person to ask for help. I don’t even ask my parents for help until I’m so upset I call my mom in tears over laundry or dinner or one of my cats annoying me.
I don’t want to be at work. I really thought I would want to be back. I mean, it’s great to see everyone and use my brain, but I don’t want to be there. This isn’t the normal I don’t want to go to work. This isn’t I hate my job and I don’t want to go. It’s something different that I can’t exactly pinpoint. I guess I can ask for help sometimes. I’m not driving myself to and from work, my parents are. I waste so much energy driving myself, it’s not worth it. I wish I didn’t have to work. Or didn’t have to work full-time. But I like my house and my car and eating.
I still have a terrible relationship with food. I hate that more than anything. I used to love food. I tolerate food now. I’m still not able to eat a normal amount. I’m still underweight. I still don’t want to eat half the time. I miss being able to eat like a normal person. It is improving, just not very quickly.
I miss running. This isn’t something I have been missing the whole time, but it’s spring and people are racing and I want that feeling. I legitimately miss running for two hours. Instead I’m walking. Not far. Just walking. I got excited Saturday when it was nice out and I went for my longest walk yet, but then later got upset over how stupid short it was and the fact that I got excited about it.
I don’t write this all just to whine and bitch. This is the reality of what I a going through. I never wanted to believe the doctor when he said it could take 3-6 months to get back to my “normal” life. I’m not at three months yet. I’m trying to be patient, but I’m not.
TL:DR What the hell happened to my life? I’m making progress but I’m impatient.