... the spirit of love that surrounds us and touches us with its greatness. It's the kindness and unselfishness of giving. It's not about gifts wrapped in pretty paper, but the heart that's put into our actions. It's the celebration of life. It's opening our heart up to the miracles that happen everyday. It's about the birth of a child.
... And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. ~ Luke 2:10-11
Not an easy subject to write about: I want some things to go away. The emotional stressors of life are piling up on me and have been for months. Gotta do this, gotta be there. It's enough to make one want to find a convient hole in the ground and crawl into it. I've been asked for my opinion on things and then had insults and lies hurled at me when I was honest. When I cry, I am weak. If I am caught taking my daily medication, I am worthless. Why does it have to be this way?
I have been too sick to eat much over the past month. Too sick to do much of anything other than lie in bed and watch TV. All that lethargy caused me to get a blood clot. That clot put me in the hospital for a week and made me fret over whether or not I was going to miss Christmas and the tree trimmings with my family. Life is being particularly shitty to me right now, and when I try to lean on others, they back away. Fucking fair weather assholes.
I wish there were a quick fix for post-traumatic stress disorder, and the psychological trauma that I have endured. The fear that I have had to deal with on a daily basis for the past decade has done a toll on me. There are no easy answers for the reason I am broken. There are no quick fixes to soothe my soul and heal my heart. All that is left is the option to live, and I have taken that option, and I am happy with it. Others, however, are not so happy that I am where I am in life. They are the aggressors of the fear that eats away at me on a daily basis. They are the antagonists that cause my self-medication so I won't care what they do or say. If I don't care, I don't react, and they don't know if they've gotten to me.
Over the past month or so, I have had some pretty sad bouts of depression. It was caused from learning that my cancer has spread to my bones. Essentially, the bone marrow transplant I underwent this past spring was basically a waste of my time. To save my feelings, my doctor didn't give me a "prognosis time limit", but he told my husband something, and it must have been pretty bad because suddenly I got an iPhone 4S, a new HD camera, and I was allowed to use the credit card again. Oh, and we upgraded our cable service. So what the hell is going on?
All of that stacked up against me, I have been put on Cymbalta. Great for keeping me asleep, unmotivated from writing on the web, and in my personal journal, and for keeping me from eating too much, but I am still sad. The pain is still there. The crying still happens. I try to keep the smile on my face. I try not to recall the horrible dreams that plague me all night long, and wake me every so often and I have to double up on Ambiene. I try to go to work and be a happy, helpful person. I even tried to smile in the court room last week.
It didn't make me feel any better. That's because this sadness is not from a chemical imbalance, but from trauma. Simple sadness that will go away when it's ready, not when some pill tells it it is time to go.
We were supposed to get the first snow fall of the season today. Now the weather man is saying no. How appropriate.