These days I live

18 May

I’ve been writing a lot about how I am trying to change how I live on a daily basis. That I am try to be more in the moment, live life one day at a time, and enjoy the moments I am given. And I do feel like I have been able to accomplish this pretty often.

But there are days where I feel the pain, physically and emotionally, and I fall backward. I feel like I fall into a hole, where I am surrounded my dirt and muck and the earth is clammy and cold. My body hurts and every ache is amplified. I feel the pop in my knee with every tiny bend. My back burns no matter how I move…or don’t move. The coolness of the earth around me is so damp that it seems to seep into my bones. I try to climb out of the hole even though I know better. Dirt tumbles around me, getting stuck under my fingernails and covering my feet. My hands hurt from digging, my feet are cramping from being clenched to keep me upright on the soft earth below. My knees ache from standing there so long. It all hurts, and I can’t see any light above me. I can’t see a way up or out.

I want to cry. Fear and loss tunnel around in my head as I think about my mother being sick. I can’t get rid of the itch to do research on the internet. It is a constant barrage of questions going through my head, pushing me to research to find the answers. And I feel smothered by the feeling that I am not doing enough because I’m not doing the research I should be doing. It’s heavy, this oppressive feeling, pushing me further into the hole, weighing me down so that I cannot even stand. It puts more pressure on my knees, my feet, my joints. My shoulders hurt, and my arms feel like I’ve got twenty pound dumbbells clutched in each hand.

It’s not all easy and happy. My mind is not always in a good place. My body is rarely in a good place. Some days just suck.


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2 responses to “These days I live

  1. April

    May 22, 2014 at 10:30 am

    You ARE doing something. A lot of something. You are supporting your mom by just being there for her. Sometimes, that is what a sick person needs. Someone to simply hold their hand. Talk about the weather, or some other normal daily activity. Someone to give them relief from their worries. It sounds like your brother has the research covered. Let him go crazy. You–keep holding your mom’s hand.

    Take care, my comrade in the world of anxiety.

    • meANXIETYme

      May 22, 2014 at 11:57 am

      Thanks, April. It can be hard to remind myself that I’m doing my part, but I keep trying. And fortunately, my husband is good at reminding me of it, too. Even my mom has told me how much I have been helping her be in a good head space. I just have to keep that in the front of my mind and let the rest of it go.


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