I haven't posted here in what seems like forever. It's not that I didn't want to, or that I ran out of ideas. That's not the case at all. There were so many things I had the urge to say, and so many times I resolved to get on here and say something to the world. But it never happened.
And, this blog isn't the only thing. I had so many grand notions of things to do, intimately planned out with careful detail, only to be eventually cast aside. My life is full of thoughts never reaching reality.
Why?
Because I just don't have the energy. Many of my mornings are filled with hitting the snooze button 5 or more times before actually getting up, and usually it's because my bladder finally can't handle another minute of retention. And, Some days even that isn't enough. Every second of my waking life has the background notion that a nap sounds amazing right now. And that's the case if I get 6 hours sleep, or 16.
Don't get me wrong though. I'm not depressed. I love my life, and all the little experiences of it. I miss out on a lot. But what I do actually end up doing, I love. I just find myself slouching most days, or looking for something to lean on is all.
Doctors don't know what's up. Every now and again, there's a hopeful lead, but nothing seems to be the answer. Whatever this is, it started when I was 17. I was in the hospital for 2 weeks with a very rare blood bacteria, and the tiredness came shortly after. The bacteria is gone, but the fatigue never leaves. After the first 5 years of actively seeking out a diagnosis and cure, I kind of just gave up on it. It was just talking too much time and energy.
But that's not to say I gave up out of hopelessness and desperation. It was more of a letting go thing. I'm somewhat diminished by it, but I'm still functional. And spending all that time and effort trying to find a cure for it was stopping me from enjoying life. It turned it into a "I can't live life until this is fixed" sort of thing, and I was fixated on what life could be, instead of what it already was.
The crazy thing is, there's times when I love it. Don't get me wrong, if a solution comes along I'll take it in a heartbeat. But as it stands now, I consider the fatigue a tremendous blessing.
I know what you're thinking, That makes no sense. Is it that I like to suffer? Do I fill like it's some sort of way of paying for my past sins? Am I afraid of success?
No, it's nothing like that. I'll show you what I mean by walking you through a typical "off" day.
Sleeping for 8 hours
.
*Alarm*
Agh! Did I set it wrong? There's no way that was more than a few hours. At least my phone's nearby. 8:00am? Well, I guess I can sacrifice ten minutes, that just means a short shower.
*Alarm*
Already? Crap. I can't get up. Okay, 20 more minutes, and no shower today with breakfast on the go.
*Alarm*
Get up. Get up! GET. UP.
I sit up, feel like fainting, drop back onto the pillow.
Not again. I have to be places. Come on body, work with me. What's that thing Paul said? I beat my body and make it my slave? Come on body, submit! I can't. I just can't. It's not working. I can't miss today though. What do I do? God, help me. Please, give me the strength I need for today. I can't do it. I need you.
And so, most every morning for me becomes a battle that I lose on my own. I end up stuck, and then I pray. And when I pray, strength almost always comes. And in those rare times when it doesn't come, things work out anyway. It's like I'm hanging in there by a thread, but the thread is indestructible. And because of it, I see God more clearly. In having to rely on him moment to moment, I can't deny his constant provision. I get to spend most every day with a true gratitude that I'm up and moving to experience it. And that wouldn't happen if my body wasn't broken. If I was well, I'd miss out on a lot of the beauty that God sends my way. And so for that, I'm thankful for this thorn in my side.
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