I kinda see my energy and ability like a speedometer. My body is an engine where there's a thin line between working really hard and working too hard. Go over that line and suddenly my symptoms are unbearable, I find myself on the couch and I cry. Other times I'm conscious of that line and I probably don't work hard enough so nothing gets done.
I know I've been pushing that line a little close for a while. The holidays are really busy, it's the end of the year so I'm trying to close as much business as possible and it suddenly got really cold outside. I find that if I don't admit how hard things are, it starts to build internally. Yesterday the valve on my engine burst and my husband and I got into an ugly fight about all the things that have really been bothering me. I'm truly sorry that we did but there were things that needed to be said. I know it's hard on him too but I do expect that he be the one person who really understands me and can see when I'm dangerously close to going over that line. He should also be that one person who can help me rebuild my engine if I accidently do go over the line.
Sometimes this disease makes you feel really lonely. Just because I look better doesn't mean I feel better. In fact, I'll never feel better again. So, everytime someone says I look great and they're glad to see I'm feeling better, I have to force a fake smile and says thanks. Well, thanks for nothing. Thanks for pointing out that I'm a great pretender now. Thanks for reminding me that I looked horrible before. One of the hardest things about this disease is that no one really knows what it feels like inside and how we struggle every second of the day. Eventually this builds up and yes, you snap.
So I'm here to tell you that temper tantrums are ok.
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