Saturday, July 7, 2012


I am lonely for myself.  I look at my body, and I don't recognize it anymore.  I am still lucky that I am thin"ish" - but I have hung up my skinny jeans for Talbots size 8 with the little bit of stretch.  The skin covering my lateral rib cage has begun to sag - little muscle to hold it up, gravity taking hold.  I wear "tankini's" now instead of my preferred bikini.  I have cellulite on my thighs that never was there before, so I have also added a swimming skirt to my swimsuit stash.  Thanks to O Magazine - I have in print the obvious - its not good for you to be sedintary - wow thanks for the astonishing insight.  In the mirror I look at myself and think how - how do I get it back?  The past few mornings the crushing fatigue has returned, despite a luxurious night sleep.  I wake with my knuckles sore and feel simultaneously as if someone is pressing my body down while large magnets are pulling me further into the bed.  I lay perfectly corpse like on my back, taking deep breathes, and willing myself to make the first move.  The room around me appears less solid in form - as if I am sleepwalking - and the frustration that this morning is like the morning before and the morning before and the morning before begins to wear heavily on my psyche.  Then I remind myself - it will get better - just try and sit up, wiggle your toes, move your wrists in circular motions.  Movement - any movement - don't try to get out of bed and be concerned about breakfast and lunch and letting the dog out or being pleasant - one task - get out of bed.

So you see the conundrum - how will I get this slowly aging body back into shape when getting out of bed is an exercise in discipline itself.  As I make it to the kitchen I see over the bushes in my sister's backyard the bouncy house up, the blow up water pool with its pirate theme and waterfall feature, as I open the back door to let Sophie out I hear their outdoor speaker system playing "One Love...Let's stay together and it'll be alright..." watching from the outside the normalness of it all I feel my heart chipping away - I am lonely for myself.

I just finished Summerland by Elin Hilderbrand and she describes one of her characters of having a heart made of fine bone china, fragile, easily chipped (can't find the exact quote) and I got it - I have that heart and this illness has enhanced its frailness.  I just want a day again, and I remind myself I had them in Phoenix and when I first returned, not 100% but close, one day that is easy.  We have had an awful heat wave that broke today, and with it I felt a bit closer to free.  The suppressive weather brought with it much anxiety for me - I felt awful even when not in it - I felt claustrophobic with its all encompassing grip on the nation - I felt trapped - or even more trapped.  So today, I was thankful for the cool breeze, driving around with my mom looking at houses that have been nominated for our villages "beautification" award (which we are on the list)- I enjoyed the simple things - trying not to dwell on what I wish I had the energy to do today, what my list of to do's would have been before this obstacle entered my life.

But as the early evening began to set in, I once again heard the music in my sister's backyard, them yelling to put the hamburgers on for a few more minutes, the kids yelling joyfully as they bounced and ran in and out of the water - and the fault line in my porcelain  tea cup heart seemed to fracture a bit wider.  That scene may as well been on the television screen scripted in Hollywood rather than 50 feet away from me, it may as well have been - I am lonely for myself and sometimes just plain lonely.

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