I’ve forgotten what it feels like to feel normal. I don’t mean in a behavioral sense; I’ve never fit into society’s definition of normal, which by the way is a myth at best. No, I mean I’ve forgotten what it feels like not to have this neurological condition. I’m aware that not so long ago I had energy and could concentrate on intricate tasks and could function at a high level, but now, because of the multitude of issues I’m dealing with, I can’t remember how it feels to feel healthy. It’s similar to how in the summer when the heat is oppressive and sweat coats your skin it’s hard to recall the chill of winter and the need for a sweater. I know I once felt strong and virile, but the memory seems as if it belonged to someone else’s life.

Mentally, I was not designed to be disabled. I know there are people in this world who would relish the opportunity to lie in bed or sit at the computer most of the day, and if I could concentrate long enough to write throughout the day, I might be able to adjust. But I am not the kind of person who likes idleness. I’m happiest when I feel productive. Every time I look at the yard and see how far behind I’ve fallen on the upkeep, my stomach aches. As I watch all of the progress I had made on the property being reclaimed by nature, a piece of me cries out internally. As the days roll by and book five still isn’t complete, I just want to scream. I have too much to do to feel this sick.

Once I have a confirmed diagnosis, I’ll hopefully be able to receive treatment and feel better. Once I have that diagnosis, I’ll try to describe and explain in more detail what the symptoms are like. For now, I don’t want to go into much detail because I don’t feel like speculation on my part or anyone else’s will be helpful.  I know people mean well when they ask if I’ve considered X, but it’s really not productive. Most likely, yes, either I or one of the doctors has considered X, and it has already been ruled out. Again, I know you mean well, but after three years, we’ve covered all the easy stuff two and three times.

I also don’t like being at the mercy of the system. So far, all it has done is let me down at every step of my life, so I don’t have much hope for it to take care of me now. That said, I’m blessed and grateful for the dear friends who have reached out to help me navigate this new reality. You know who you are, and I’m more appreciative of you than I can express. Once I have beaten this illness and am back to my rowdy self, I hope I can repay the kindnesses. That’s all for now. Physically, I’m quite uncomfortable today.