I�m feeling so strange lately. I can�t put it into words and when I try, my brain just seems to shut down. I feel alone, scared, empty, desolate. But then at the same time, I feel numb too. I feel shut down. I just sit and stare. I can just lay in bed quiet for hours. My world has become so small. Just my bed and 4 walls. My cubicle with its 3 sides. My car with its 4 doors. I have very little motivation to do anything. Some days I cut myself some slack and congratulate myself for getting to work when my whole body hurts. Other days, I just feel so guilty.
Part of it�s a momentum thing. The more you hibernate, the harder it is to get back out into the world. Another part of it is that I need a quieter life right now to heal. But the longer my life is quiet, the harder it is to turn on some noise again.
Oh, and I have another hernia. I will need another surgery. When, I have no idea. I can�t really take a month off of work right now when I�m already on intermittent leave. I mean, I can if I need to but it would be bad. I already feel like a disappointment at work and each day walk in feeling guilty that I can�t give my best right now. With the last hernia, I was able to wait a year to get it repaired. I have actually had this hernia for a while but it just recently got bigger. I�m starting to have some of the problems with it that I had with the other one� I don�t think I�ll be able to hold it off a year. Maybe until fall though.
I�m not really happy about the idea of another surgery. Not only was it incredibly painful, it was also difficult emotionally and I had a hard time recovering from the anesthesia. I get psychotic just thinking about going under again.
I have a lot on my mind lately, a lot of things that I stew over. I don�t think my problems are any more challenging than anyone else�s, but they are the only ones I know.
The good news: I am getting out of my four walls this weekend. I shall be in Phoenix meeting Lauren (I�d link her but she�s locked) for the first time. 3 diarylanders down, 1 million to go.
