Sunday, December 11, 2011

Admitting Is The First Step

I think we should create a group called MS Anonymous.  Until that revolutionary idea is widely accepted, I suppose I'll just begin by confessing the accomplishment of my first step.

Step 1:  I admit that I am not able to work the number of hours I used to.

There.  I've said it.  That wasn't so hard, right?

Wrong.  I had to leave the part-time job.  I have a condition called Overtime Intolerance.  The only cure is...not to exceed 40hrs.  Symptoms of O.I. include exhaustion, brain fry, sadness, and explosive bowel movements.  Ok, not the last one.  I just think it's a great side effect of many televised rx drug ads and wanted to somehow incorporate it into a blog post.

Over the past 12yrs, I've mastered the art of "that's not necessarily ms".  The fact that I don't move with the same fluidity I used to?  Easy. "I'm old" and "I have many past sports injuries".  The occasional dribble I may or may not experience while coughing, laughing, or not getting to the bathroom in time?  Simple.  "I've had 2 kids, and one used my bladder as a piece of MMA training equipment".  That boy's always been a fighter:-)

True as those points of contention may be, the cold hard facts about my inability to work the lengthy hours I used to with ease can only be answered with one phrase - "it is what it is".  And what it ms.

As a psychologist once asked me a minimum of 3 times in just one 5 minute session:  "how does that make you feeeeeeeeeeel?"

The real answer?  Worthless...sluggish...lazy...even sad.  I feel as if I should just push through, but I can't, no matter how hard I try.  I just get more sleepy, more fried, more run down.  I feel like I can't expect my husband to do it all by himself.  I feel like it's all my fault.  I don't even know how to properly identify "it", but I just know it's my fault.

I decided to actually speak to my husband about my feelings, which I do not typically do.  Why?  Because he is just supposed to know.  His response went something like, "I'm actually glad you're not working the extra job anymore, because it was killing me.  I felt like it was all my fault that you had to take it.  I hate that none of my jobs are busy right now.  I hate that you have to work at all."

My response, "well that's stupid...knock it off."  (Army Dad emerges at the worst of times)

His response?  "HEY!"

The comic relief was the perfect wake up call for me, however.  I love the phrase, "emotions can lead you astray, but the Word of God stands firm".  Seems like I fell into that familiar pit again.  I wouldn't say I've shaken the feeling of heaviness that adorns my shoulders, but I know how to battle my way out with some very simple truths.  I'm a daughter of the King!  He has a plan for me...and that always makes my heart smile, even though I don't quite know the details:-)  My children look to me as an example of faith, hope, and courage.  They couldn't care less if I'm able to work 50hrs each week or none at all.  They don't mind if I walk into stuff or put the cereal in the fridge and milk in the pantry.  Bottom line?  I'm their Mommy.

I'm their Mommy...I'm his wife...I'm their daughter...I'm His precious child.  These are the things I will focus on and the things I will 'admit' to myself.

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