Hindsight – Looking Back at February 25th, 2013

It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.

-Aristotle Onassis

I’ve had a few. Dark moments, that is.

A very dark time for me was when I miscarried a child back in October 2009. However, more recently, my dark moments stem from having MS.

My acute vision loss last year was a truly dark episode in my life. Yesterday was the anniversary of when my vision first began to leave me. On May 14th, 2012 it felt as though my eyes were sunburned. Within a couple of weeks I couldn’t see the edge of sidewalks, prepare food, see well enough to operate a skytrain ticket kiosk. I couldn’t see details of my fingers. I couldn’t drive. A year later, my optic nerves have healed as much as they possibly can. This causes me to consider that if this is truly as good as my vision is going to get, I’m quite grateful. Although it will always have funny quirks: night vision is psychedelic, fine details are lost, colours come and go and focus towards the end of the day is rather hit and miss. All in all though, it is quite tolerable. I can drive, I can work. Happily, nothing in my life has drastically changed with regard to my vision.

Back to the subject of dark moments… My most disturbing darkest moment in recent history has passed, thank God. I’m not referring to my visually darkest time, but to my mentally darkest moments. Last November and December were terrifying. The 2:30am angel of terror would descend on me and put terrible thoughts into my head, then abandon me to cry myself back to sleep. I’m still struggling to understand how I got through it. At the time I wasn’t able to see the light, let alone focus on it.

To demonstrate how bad things had become I’d like to post a draft entry that has been lurking behind the scenes since it was originally typed up on Monday, February 25th, 2013. I can’t have it lurking there in blogdom obscurity any more – only to pop up and catch my attention when I least expect it. I cannot carry its burden alone any more – if I set it free it will no longer be a dark lurking secret. I’ll have owned it and have decided I don’t need it any longer. My action will, in effect, rob it of its power over me.

Quite truthfully, I thought November and December of 2012 had been my darkest months, but clearly I was still struggling in February 2013. I have not edited my writing, I present it to you in its raw state. As you will see, it is awful on so many levels: spelling, grammar, style. It wallows in self-pity and degrades into point form, hopelessly floundering in its own muddiness. Brace yourself – this is me at my worst:

___________________________________________________

 so, i was away this past weekend with an enthusiastic group of youths. what did i learn about myself and my ms? i learned that my ms isn’t slowing me down. it is’t going to hold me back. but it showed me that i have limits that are quickly exhausted – leaving my batteries stuck on low. batteries that cannt recharge easily

i felt very, very down this afternoon after a stressful day at work. after a very brief cry, perhaps 2 minutes, i felt slightly better.

how are you today? my lips are numb and i’m having difficulty stringing two words togeter, but other than that I’m juft fine.

day from hell

fantacising about ways to kill myself on way home

feel like a complete and utter failure

force myself to breathe 

feeling so overwhelmed i don’t know if i can bear the weight of being a wife and mother

 my vision isn’t good

 my cognitive abilities suck

 i feel like it is all a game that i’m trying to convince the rest of the world that i’m functioning as i normally would

 i hate the comment: at least it’s not cancer. that devalues me and makes me feel like my worries and concerns have no merit, that i should be happy with my situation. it also insinuates that somwone. with cancer is at the end of their life and should receive only our pity. while a bit of a reality check is fine, don’t tell me how to feel, or try to minimize my oersonal struggles. when i laugh about them, i have probablyy sobbed about them i private.

 i want to sell my house

 i’m beginning to mourn the loss of aging wth my heath

 i’m afraid to start my new prescription

 i’m afraid o my climbing medical bills

 i’m afraid i won’t be able to do my job well

 i’m afraid to ask for hep because it feels like that would be admitting that i’ve failed

 i’m afraid of lookig stupid

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About Christine N

I'm married to Daryle, Mom to two wonderful boys - Daniel and Andy.
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