I’ve been sitting here trying to start this post… I guess writing about being stuck gets you stuck.
My hesitation is to try and spare my readers of a pity party. But I’m sick of feeling sick.
And I’m guilty for feeling that way, because in the grand scheme of life, my health is pretty okay. I have to remind myself of that when I’m feeling like a petulant child who can’t do what she wants when she wants.
But my main symptom is exhaustion and it’s like black, smoky hands dragging down my body and spirit, pushing me in this crappy cycle of pity and guilt.
Heavy, right? I feel like Tony Soprano…
Tony: Oh, Ma, you gotta stop! You gotta stop with this black poison cloud all the time! ‘Cause I can’t take it anymore!
Livia Soprano: Oh, poor you!
The pity party has ended. Thanks for coming!
