I’m A Waste
How did this happen?
Just two years ago, I was so active and full of life—hiking, fishing, and lifting weights. In my Krav Maga class, I fought and would lift my then-200-pound now-fiancé. Moving around was no issue, and I had never felt such aches or pain. I had plenty of energy, was lean, and loved myself, my mind, and my body.
I was healthy.
How the hell did I end up like this?
I’m furious that I feel close to crippled every single day. The ache in my side and the shooting pain down my legs and up my back is a constant reminder that I am not okay. My body has been slowly shutting down, unable to feel rested. Most days, I end up keeled over in pain by the end of the day. The horrendous pain in my gut, constant nausea, exhausting fatigue, and mental drain… it’s as if I was 27 going on 70.
And through the chronic pain that seems never-ending, I still move on. I grit my teeth, wake up, and go to work like I am supposed to. I put a happy face on, and it’s as if no one can tell this pain has caused me such horrible mental strain for the past year.
After work every day, I cannot wait to get home just so I can lay down. My body wails as I grasp for any sense of relief.
Heating pad, check.
CBD or Delta 8 gummies, check.
Five other prescription medications for various messy issues, all stemming from this pain’s side effects, check.
As early as 7 PM, I immediately fall asleep. The sense of warm comfort sends me into bliss. Finally, some sort of relief. The pain is almost numbing.
Before long, I shoot awake with instant regret. I haven’t done anything I was supposed to do. The bills are not paid, dinner is not cooked, the house is not cleaned. I suppose my fiancé will have to eat leftovers again.
I can’t even be present, let alone have a conversation, falling in and out of consciousness while watching TV. But good sleep is so infrequent these days.
It’s as if no one can believe, or understand, the pure exhaustion I feel every second of every day. And it’s only getting worse.
Why am I like this?
Why would anyone want to live with me? Have a relationship with me? Be friends with me? I’ve been a horrible friend, fiancée, and daughter.
Falling asleep is not the issue. It’s staying asleep and actually feeling rested. I wake in the middle of the night, mind still in a daze, brain in a fog. Walking to the bathroom once more, images of dark figures send me into an immediate panic. It’s not real, I tell myself, as I sway back and forth, bumping into walls, on my long walk back to our bedroom.
I wake up every morning feeling hungover as if I didn’t get a wink of sleep at all.
I don’t want to deal with this any longer.
Multiple calls to my doctor and still waiting on a surgery date. “Elective surgery,” my ass. The anger and frustration overwhelm me. The sense of helplessness is overbearing. The quality of life is non-existent.
I am a waste.
No answers and no view of a diagnosis in sight.
And once again, I wait for my shift to be over so I can speed home to lay down and rest.
Every single day is the same; nothing is new, and there is not a single thing for me to be excited for.
One day, after anesthesia and sutures, I hope to understand.
I refuse to be a waste, but I am so tired.