It is 3pm. I have just managed to drag myself out of bed, but only far enough to my computer desk. My symptoms are not terrible today — just the rash and mild spasms so far. But it’s times like these, in between having the physical afflictions completely overtaking me, that can be the hardest of all. Because then I have time to think, to reflect on all the things that have been happening to me, and it is so overwhelming, I have trouble finding motivation to do much at all, and emotionally, I shut down and become numb.

In the back of my mind, I know that I do want to be brave, to be strong. To believe as much as everyone else that I am going to get through this.

My friends’ support has meant so much to me throughout this process, and I honestly would not even have been able to get this far without them. And so I don’t want to call and confess about the emotional toll this sickness has been taking on me. How can I be so ungrateful? It could be a lot worse. What right do I have to feel this way? All is not lost yet. It has only been a month. And they have already been there so often, and I should be independent enough not to need someone around all the time.

But the truth is, in the past month, sometimes each minute feels like an eternity, and as much as I try to tell myself that I am being overly dramatic and need a slap back to reality, I feel suffocated by my thoughts.

I write this entry not for pity, but because I know that when I go back and read it, I will be disgusted by my own whining and saddened by my lack of optimism. And maybe it’ll be a push in the right direction, in digging deep within myself and finding the strength to just keep moving. One day at a time.

Tagged: health, myoclonus
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