>Went to look for some clip art for this post, and instead found several articles on coping with chronic illness. I’m not coping very well recently. But the articles made me feel a bit better. I realize I am struggling again with the knowledge that I will never again be the person I was. Read the decorating magazine, the cooking magazine, the having a nice life magazine, thinking I am that person, or will be that person. You know, the person who decorates their home, who cooks more than the easiest basic food, who does all the little things that make for a comfortable life. I’m not going to be her ever again. I went through this once before (probably more than once) but I haven’t ever really come to terms. I still have in the back of my mind that I can cook that, make that, decorate that, whatever. In my mind I still am that person. In reality I am not. It is hard. It is hard when your life diminishes in scope. When ‘I can’t’ seems to be the rule of the day more often than not. No matter how much I gear myself up mentally, the reality of my physical limitations is always there. I want to do it, I believe I can do it, but I can’t do it.

Today I was going to lunch with a friend. She was to call me this morning to set the time. I completely forgot to turn on the ringer in the bedroom phone. I had a bad night sleep-wise and am still having a lot of pain, so I probably would have had to pass anyway, but I felt like such a loser when I woke up and realized that it was way past the time when she called. I called and apologized. For the umpteenth time. How hard is it to be the friend of someone who is always letting you down, whether it’s within their control or not. My friend understands that I am ill, and does not ever make me feel guilty, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling terrible about always being the person who can’t. Who messes up the plans. Who spoils the fun for someone else. I don’t want to be that person. I don’t like that person. I want to be me again, I want my life back, and it is never going to happen. That makes me very, very sad. I usually am much better at dealing, but sometimes…………it crushes me. I look at the ruin of my body, the messiness that is my apartment, the food that I buy and then can’t prepare, all the gifts that illness has given me. And I am crushed, devastated, miserable, sad. It’s been eleven years since I had to stop working. You’d think I’d adjust to the new me. If only. I just realized…..I am still in mourning for myself. Hmmmmm.