Only as much as I dream can I be.

(source)

Sometimes anxiety gets the better of me. I try and fight it. Sometimes well, and sometimes I'm down for the count in the first round. My personality, which worked well in my career, can trip me up if left unchecked in my life as it is now. You see, I've always been someone who likes to be in control  Even now the sicker I am, often the more stubborn I become, as I deludedly try to assert my dominance on the situation. Which of course always works out so well. And I really don't do well with uncertainty. I have on occasion, even been known to catastrophise things. For example, this was my response to having to leave work thanks to my deteriorating health:

 "The world had ended.  The stars were falling from the sky.  My failure was responsible for the hole in the ozone layer, global warming and Justin Beiber.  Even the demise of the Pollywoffle was directly related to my failure (RIP little marshmallow bar of goodness).  My life was over.  I had failed me.  I had failed Mr Grumpy.  I had failed the rug rats.  I had failed my family.  I had failed my friends.  I had even failed the slightly creepy guy who delivered our junk mail. (And I wonder where my youngest gets his drama queen genes from)." (Zen and the Art of Tupperware) 

I like to think this is just another in a long list of less than helpful skills my Type A personality chose to perfect. Up there with deciding to get one of the crappier versions of a crappy illness. None of this half-arsed business here. My anally retentive tendencies would never allow that. Even if the outcome will be undoubtedly shitty, I'll have the best worst outcome, damn it!

Having an unpredictable disorder has not helped. Feel well one minute, out cold on the floor the next. Some days you get lulled into feeling a little less symptomatic and try to do a little more than usual. Like today, I showered, got dressed AND accessorised which of course left me clutching my chest and seeing spots on the bed. Luckily I didn't get all crazy and try to put on lip gloss or I may have been out for the count. So simple yet so unexpectedly difficult. Events like today tend to make me worry. How can they not? 

Some days I can get away with vacuuming a couple of rooms or pottering in the garden. Those days I felt like I did earlier today. But for some unknown reason apart from feeling the white noise of being generally unwell I was okay. As to why today a wee bit of personal hygiene ended poorly, I have no idea. It's not like I get a heads up or can work out why today was worse than those other days. Some days I can have everything in my favour and still end up bradycardic and vague out on the floor. I can tick every single box on my list to give me the best chance of a good day and two seconds later it all ends in tears.

It's been a hard truth to come to terms with for someone as anal retentive as myself. If I'm honest it's one I'm still working on. My tips so far: swearing, sobbing and pouting whilst not exactly getting at the root of the problem do make you feel better. 

It has meant that heading out of the house does make me anxious. I hate admitting that, but it is the truth. If I am going to have a full-body meltdown I prefer to do that in the privacy of my home. Having it in front of others, particularly strangers, still bothers me, even though logically I know it shouldn't. 

The reality is that something as simple as going to the supermarket is a big deal. Not just the physical side of the things like fatigue and weakness, a blood pressure that can drop with little notice, or the realisation that I'll likely have to use the disgusting public rest rooms, no doubt more than once. But the chance that I will fall, have my legs give out, start slurring, throw up in my cart, not be able to sign for my credit card, end up on a bench sucking down water and salt sachets whilst people walk by staring and muttering about the weird pasty faced woman lying on the bench whilst her "poor kids" stand at the checkout (No, I am not drunk or on drugs, judgemental people. Sheesh). I could go in feeling fine and dandy and 10 minutes in be a sobbing blancmange on the foul floor of the public toilet clutching a puke bag. That can make a gal a little anxious.

It's hard. Taking that first step mentally and physically seems an impossibility some days. But the reality is that I can either become a hermit and half live my life in fear of what may be, or I can say "screw it" take a deep breath and hold on tight to hope. Self-imposed exile from the world was never on my To Do list, yet I can easily see myself slowly sinking into it if I don't take myself in hand and down a big can of Harden up, Princess.

I hate the bad days, days like yesterday where I was stuck non-functioning in bed, or days like today that started a little better and went downhill fast. If I could avoid them I would. But I have to acknowledge that sometimes they are simply unavoidable. I do get through them. Every time. It doesn't feel like it in the moment, but I do. At times it's embarrassing or seriously unpleasant, but I'm still here kicking on seven years down the track. I can chose to limit myself in fear of what my body will serve up for the next day or next hour. Or I can suck up my anxiety and let myself reach, seek, look and dream. 

And who knows. I might go arse-up at the check out, but at least I'll have managed to get out of the house, or have some new pots in my garden to admire from my comfy spot at ground level, or wear some fabulous accessories even whilst I am feeling a little like death warmed up on my couch. 

Who knows, tomorrow I may even risk the lip gloss.

Cheers

Michelle :)

Time to shake the crap out of my head.