OK I've been trying to figure out how to write about all that I've lost in the last weeks. Trying not to sound desperate and worthy of pity though the words I think describes me most are desperate and pitiful. It's not that I don't have so many blessings in my life. I have a wonderful husband who is more than I fear I deserve. I aspire to be worthy of him. At the same time, I tell myself that I am worthy and try to sit with the guilt. Not even wanting to understand why I feel guilty. Bleck. I have a supportive family, a few wonderful friends, and my wonderful kitties. But damnit, I feel awful sometimes. Devastated and desperate. Grasping onto anything that might mean life if worth living. I know I'm not supposed to feel this way--at the same time knowing there is no way I'm supposed to feel. See the problem? lol.

I wanted to be a counselor. I still do. I love working with the seriously mentally ill. Schizophrenics are my favorite. I had this fanciful idea that I could help them. I could. I helped them when I was a case manager. I wanted to counsel them. I spent my spare time reading about how many schizophrenics have been helped by therapy. So many wonderful studies done in Europe. I have been so anxious to help. But it seems I'm the one who needs the help.

I had to stop working 3 years go--then I had to stop going to school a year ago and then again last month Now I can't leave the house much. Going to Target is a bit much even once a week. I either have a migraine or I'm on the verge of one or I'm getting over one. I can't believe I'm back to being this sick. I was this sick a year ago. The last month is a blur. I haven't a clue what the hell happened. I'm 39. Guess I thought I was somehow special--somehow exempt to the "shit happens to people of all ages" rule. Ends up I'm not. I thought going to one of the top 5 migraine specialists in the country would help. It did for a bit, but now he doesn't work with my insurance company. I'm trying so hard not to feel sorry for myself. But I do. I'm devastated.

I seem to have an uncanny ability to find blogs or articles about counselors. Damnit I’d be fine if I never heard about counseling the rest of my damn life. Screw all of you. I don’t mean that of course. But I kind of do. I’m so jealous of the people around me. Working, going places, not having migraines. It’s just too much. It happened so fast. I was doing so well. In the span of a week I went from having 1-2 migraines a week to 5 migraines a week. Everyone asks why. How the hell should I know? I guess going to school did it. I guess leaving the house for 2.5-5 extra hours a week did it. I guess doing next to nothing for the classes since I had already taken most of one before (last year when I had to drop out for having too many migraines) and the other a very low stress class somehow through my body out of whack. Yes, that’s what seemed to do it. Yes, I am somehow that fragile. It’s embarrassing. It’s enraging. I’ve someone failed myself through no fault of my own.

I really wanted to help people. Please don’t say I can volunteer and help people. Seriously it makes me want to stab someone in the eye when they say that. I wanted to be a counselor. For two years—three years—I don’t even know because my thinking is all bonked up from my month of migraines—I went to class with migraines. I did reading with migraines, I worked to become a counselor. And now, I have no idea what’s going to happen. The migraines will calm down. But what then?

I know I’ll be fine—I’ll get through this. But goodness the getting through is annoying the hell out of me.


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