I think that I have a friend or two who genuinely care about me and my illnesses. I believe that I have some acquaintances who would be certain to talk to me if we were in the same place, coincidently.
Like this… “It makes planning nearly impossible. Many humans take for granted that they will wake up feeling “normal”, go to work, go see friends, go to their child’s sports game – same as always. 🌅👩🏻🏫👩🏼⚕️👨🏼💻👩🏻🏫👩🎤👮🏻👯♂️
For someone battling a chronic illness, you just don’t know. Instead of “planning”, it’s more like “hoping”. You “hope” you wake up feeling ok, you “hope” you can make it through work, you “hope” you can make it through your child’s play…..and each event takes its toll on your energy and health.
She goes on to write, “It is not because you no longer care or because the event is not important to you or the person is not important to you. You are missing out because your body has given out.
In fact, your body may be 4 or 5 events PAST too many by the time you just give out. It’s like driving a car that is running out of gas….you lasted on fumes, but finally despite all your efforts, the fumes have run out. The gas pedal is all the way to the floor, but she’s not going any further.”
My doctor had requested some blood work from me…, which, upon return, explained a plethora of my health problems. She was speaking another language (Greek? Latin? Dr. Speak?), regardless I needed Google. And here I am. 🌎.
Meghan O’Rourke has an essay called “I had Autoimmune Disease and then it had me.” It was printed in The New Yorker Magazine, Aug. 26, 2013. It came up in a Google Search for Hypothyroidism. She was speaking my language.
💩. I don’t even like me when I’m on fumes. 👺
I’m a teacher -high school English, to be more precise. I have access to most of the great writers from across the world and ages. I sip Mocha Cappuccino while I score papers or read for fun. It’s who I am. It’s what I do.
I listen when teens dramatize the world to fit their egos. I listen to administration when the “Out-with-the-old-and-in-with-the-new” speeches just so happen to reflect the current political jargon. I hear colleagues vent the same frustrations each Autumn. Yet, I try to mind my own…
Each year with students is the same… We read, write, revise and publish in class. Inevitably some well-meaning student will ask, “Do you, like write, like, when you get chances?”
My standard reply is “No, not really, I’m too busy with grading and stuff.” Most students nod and mentally move back into the original lesson. I simply slide back into teaching the curriculum.
I openly praise the creativity and tenacity of writers throughout the academic year. I help students find their voice and teach them how to get it on paper (or software). It’s a telling experience for me. Strange though, I don’t make the time for myself to find my voice and go through the writing process.
I have purchased blank journals which are beautiful, or recyclable, as well as some cheap spiral notebooks. I buy my ideal pens –medium point with roller ball technology. I have helped friends edit and self publish their personal manuscripts. But I haven’t done any of my recommendations for myself. I have been a hypocrite.
This realization hit me like an intentional slug to my gut. It hurts. I wince, buckle my knees, fold at my waist and then peer up at my assailant whispering, “Whyyyyyyyy?”
Enter WordPress.com. My blog. I have a blog! I’m writing! It’s my internal voice! I can hear myself in the posts that I write! This is incredible! Once I get something typed in, my brain is already planning tomorrow’s post. I’m addicted. I can see the headlines now… “Local English Teacher Goes from Hypocrite to Addict! Read more……”
Now, I sit on my over-stuffed chair -sipping my Mocha Cappuccino and writing my blog for today. Do I have it made or what?! Awesome-sauce! 😎