Same shit, different day.

I have to start this with "grateful" because I need to re-focus my mind on the positive stuff before I get into the shitty stuff.

I am grateful to have a patient, care-taking husband who doesn't bat an eye when I need help on bad pain days.
I am grateful to have amazing friends like Laurel, who inspire me to do my best and to not get down on myself when I have a bad day.
I am grateful for the roof over my head, the food in my pantry, my four adoring fur-children, wifi and cable, and all the other things I might take for granted if I hadn't been a couch-surfing drifter for most of my 20s.
I am grateful for the opportunity to get the healthcare I need, and the ability to try different methods and different doctors if things don't feel right.
I am grateful for the days I am not feeling too sick to go out, even if I pay for it later.
I am grateful that none of my illnesses are immediately life-threatening, unlike the illnesses suffered by many of my friends and acquaintances, one of whom died of brain cancer recently.
I am grateful for the ability to speak my mind online, and share my journey with others who care, whether they are my friends, or someone who stumble across this blog and find something they can relate to.
I am grateful for thunderstorms, because they make me happy.

And now, I shall commence bitching.

I went to the doctor on Monday to check that my blood pressure medication was working, but I was feeling pretty ill, with a sore throat and tender lymph nodes. I told my doctor it felt like the beginning stages of mono, which I had about 10 years ago. He said that it was probably an Epstein-Barr flare. Great! Just what I need on top of my fibromyalgia flares and my other pain conditions. Of course, there's nothing you can really do about an EBV flare except to "Go home and rest as much as possible." So, that's what I've been doing. Yet, even though I basically have a doctor's permission to sleep all day (EBV does that), I still feel guilty for wasting the days.

The funny thing about depression is that it steals your energy, makes you more prone to health problems, and takes away opportunities for fun and enriching experiences. It turns you into a hermit, and then gives you a guilt trip about it. Wash, rinse, repeat. It's been said before, by many people with chronic illness - "I am sick and tired of being sick and tired." It's spring! The weather has warmed, I can smell the earth and the rain, and it makes me want to go out and dance in a thunderstorm or, when it's not raining, take a walk in the woods. I want to get out and do Yelp events with Matt, and maybe even meet some new friends. I talk about doing these things in bed with Matt before he and I go to sleep.

Thanks to Xanax, I no longer lie awake, tossing and turning for hours. It's pretty much lights-out about an hour after I take the pill, so I time it that way. The problem is waking up. The problem has always been waking up. The prospect of getting out of bed, taking a shower, and getting dressed seem like monumental undertakings, especially now, when most of my clothes are in trash bags because we had to bag all our stuff for the pest treatment. I just haven't had the energy to go through everything. I used to take pride in the fact that I had my own space, which, before my latest bout of major depression hit just before the holidays last year, was the tidiest room in the house. I did my own laundry, and I put it away, you know, like an adult. Now I have all but abandoned my room. I have to "move out" soon anyway, so that Kate and Paul can have the space.

That's a whole other kettle of fish. We still need to talk about Kate and Paul in regards to the nitty-gritty details of our housing arrangement. My fear is that Paul will not be able to find a job for a long time, and we will end up running into problems that will strain our relationships. I just don't want to end up in the same kind of clusterfucks I've experienced in the past, and Matt has never been in a similar situation.

I feel like I need a vacation from my own life.