Sometimes I get so fucking tired of living within the confines of illness; there are days when I almost forget that I am sick and unable to carry on like a normal person; or times when I allow myself to fall prey to my own wild imagination and I begin to believe.
I’ll never forget something my daughter said to me on the Saturday following this past Thanksgiving;
she said,
“Why do have so much hope, Mom? There’s NO reason for you to be so hopeful about things, you know?”
At the time and in the context in which she spoke, I disagreed with her wholeheartedly; but since that day, I have thought about her statement regularly – and see her point pretty clearly. I have been depressed all of my life since I can remember, the feelings associated with my depression are nothing new to me, and I have a pretty good handle on them seeing as how I’ve been dealing with the shit forever.
The feelings and emotions that I experience sometimes in regard to my illness and impending death, though, it’s a different ballgame. These days, like today – are all-encompassing and consuming in every way. I guess I should stop feeling sorry for myself now, seriously…there are people worse off than me.
That’s enough for today’s angry.
