I know I’m beginning to sound like a broken record, for lack of a better cliché. But this last week has been life changing. I started a replacement medication for the cortisol that my body stopped making long ago.
I feel like Wonder Woman (minus the figure). (Which, by the way, actually printed on the bottle “may increase appetite.” Look out, figure!) (Which I could totally care less about, because seriously, what good is a figure if I can’t get out of bed?)
I went to the grocery store at 4:45pm tonight. Then I came home and fixed dinner. Then the children and I made a dessert that required ingredients. (And cooperation, and teamwork, and patience.) This was all after a day of cleaning, Christmas tree decorating, and parenting. Sounds fairly normal, except I’m usually dragging ass around 2pm and waiting for the sun to go down to declare it “the middle of the night” and time for bed.
My children actually have started doing a “Yay! Mommy!” cheer. My husband is wholeheartedly joining in.
Just to show a little contrast, I’m going to include a draft I started that was too whiny depressing to post. I wrote this six days ago. It was titled On Empty. I didn’t even have the energy to finish it.
I’ve been running on fumes for a few weeks now. The only thing that seems to help is 12-13 hours of sleep every night. And that isn’t even helping anymore.
I have caring friends who have asked if I am depressed. I always answer no. But I am getting depressed. I am getting depressed that my body is not working the way I wish it would.
This morning was very depressing for me. This morning I felt the same way I did 14 years ago before I was diagnosed with a tumor on my adrenal gland. If you had asked me three weeks ago what that felt like, I wouldn’t have been able to answer you. But sitting there this morning, after 9 hours of sleep, I was still tired. And nauseated. And hungry. And hollow.
You know how scents bring back memories? I had a moment like that. It wasn’t a scent though, it was a feeling.
That was six days ago. What a difference a week can make.
(Sadly, I am not actually Wonder Woman. If I were, I would be able to heal the breaking heart of a dear friend. Instead, I send her my love.)