Well I'm down today. That sucks. I'm very much in a 'woe is me' mood. Actually I'm in a 'If I were a dog, I'd be put down right now' mood.
I can't clean, it wears me out. I do it in spurts but it's not really enough. I can't cook, it wears me out. Same as cleaning. I can't work at all. I can't exercise. I can't even really eat properly. I shake when I move. I've lost quite a bit of weight. I can't do a lot of things I enjoy and, frankly, I can't even pull my own weight anymore.
If I were on a farm and I were a dog, someone would've shot me by now, it's true. If you saw a shaking thin frail dog who didn't enjoy what it once did and couldn't even muster the cattle for you or, hell, protect your house - you'd shoot it. Unless you took pity on it - then the medical bills would be so high you'd have the vet put it down.
The letter from Telstra is upsetting me more than I thought. I had to leave a message and *shockingly* they haven't called back. I don't even know WHY I had to leave a message considering I called at 9am ON THE DOT so I could be the first one in line. But whatever.
The savings I made last month has basically depleted from my illness. I have other savings, but those are at a huge cost to me financially if I access them. The food stores in the house are depleting (market trips are also a big event for me).
The only thing keeping me from just saying 'fuck it' and hiding in a corner rocking back and forth for a week is my own damn determination and positivity (which is not present at all in this post, I'm aware). I got to say, my natural reaction is to revert back to a baby-stage and suck my thumb and cry and be rocked - that's how stressed I am. But I won't. I won't be put down - there's still life left in me and if I have to gather the energy just to do laundry so I can boast some kind of usefulness, I will.
I guess I'm just down and being hard on myself today. I guess I also don't take well to allowing others to take care of me. It's not me. I've taken care of myself since I was very young and made a point to be as independent as possible from as early as I could (much to my mother's distress). And now? Now I have to depend on people - and I have to have faith they just won't up and leave while I need them - and that's fucking terrifying. History hasn't been so great with me on this aspect. Baggage? Most likely.
I don't want the antenna installation guy to see me cry... I've put on happy music and I'm dancing. I've been depressed before. I've gotten out of it. I can do this. It only looks hard because I've made it look hard. Let's shine some light on this and cast away the shadows - so I can get over this crap. Grow up, Liz. Drink a glass of cement and harden the fuck up.