I was talking with someone recently; they asked me how was I feeling? Before I knew it my automaton answer of “you know us we’re wired for fighting.”
And it hit me again all of it. This fall will be twenty years of battling chronic gastrointestinal issues. Thirteen years since my dad passed due to cancer. Nine years of my mama juggling multiple autoimmune disorders. And I’m barely in my thirties.
I just want to scream “ENOUGH!” Can’t anyone see I’ve been treading water in rough seas for awhile now? How can I get a vacation from my own body? When do my emotional scars heal enough or I heal enough to have a life? When do I get to thrive instead of just battling to survive?
I know. Dreary right. Woe is me. Poor me. Sounds ridiculous.
I get it. I thank God everyday for the blessings I have in life. A fierce mama. A family that loves me. Great friends who let me vent, totally understand, and help me up off the ground. And a the simple things that are often taken for granted like my daddy’s sweet tea.
It’s just sometimes … the water is right at my head.