You may or may not have noticed a little radio silence from me over the past 2 weeks. It’s been a rough period for me. Since October, I’ve been recovering well from my skin disorder and even though I’ve been having flare ups every couple of weeks, they’ve been minor and have gotten progressively shorter and less intense. But a little over a week ago I got hit with the worst flare I’ve had in over 6 months and it really got me down. Physically I was exhausted and found myself sleeping for 14+ hours many days and emotionally I was depressed and frustrated. I had to take a break even though it wasn’t what I wanted at the time.
As much as I wanted to spend time blogging, I just couldn’t. I didn’t have the energy or motivation to do it.
I felt like I was back at square one with not only my illness but with my emotional and mental state of being that I’ve been working so hard on improving. I was trying really hard to see the positive in my situation. I tried really hard to tell myself that this flare up was happening for a reason and that it was here to teach me something more. But damn, that was near impossible. Try as I did, I couldn’t bring myself to see or feel anything but pain, suffering, powerlessness, and yes, a bit of self-pity.
The reminder from my doctor that a full recovery usually takes 1-4 years and I was *only* 1 year into it was not encouraging. In 3 more years I would be 31! My fears about my illness came flooding back like they were excited to see me. Ugh.
“Will I ever be fully healed?”
“Will I ever feel normal again?”
“What if I never get my body back?”
“What if this interferes with starting a family?”
“What if this never fully goes away?”
I cried. A lot. I cried the whole way home from that doctor’s office. I was at a new low point for these last 6 months and all the feelings of powerlessness, overwhelm and self-pity that I felt when I was first getting sick reappeared as if they’d never left.