Dear Penelope,
I feel like I’m giving in a little bit by changing my meds. This doesn’t feel good, nourishing, or right.
My body says no. My head says yes, I can have a better quality of life, why not? My body says you’re not so bad, I can deal, I can cope.
For some crazy reason I don’t want to completely numb you out. I truly feel like you’re here to teach me something. I don’t know what that is yet but hell, we’ve got time.
Do you know? Do you have an agenda?Can you tell me? Penelope, what are you here to teach me?
You are in the ordinary.
I am ever so present in my body all the time.
Most of the time I live as though you don’t exist. Those times are good times.
Am I in denial? I don’t think so. I know you’re here more than anyone else does.
The worst part isn’t the slowness in chopping vegetables, or the soreness in my shoulder, or the shaking in front of other people.
The worst part is the word degenerative. You know where I’m at now and that’s okay, I can deal. I just don’t know what’s ahead of me. Who will I be as I experience you in a bigger way?
People sometimes say nobody knows what the future’s going to be like, to encourage me to see the brighter side of things, but this is different.
I want to believe so badly that it’s going to get better. And I’m going to get better. That you are going to leave my being.
I’d like to believe the following completely with absolute certainty:
- I’m going to feel how I feel now or even better.
- I will always live an active happy lifestyle.
- I will walk with ease at my children’s weddings.
- I will play with delight with my grandchildren.
The doctors, all the stuff I read online, and the people at the support groups, do not support this idea. I’m assuming you do not support this idea either.
I feel as though you’re here to take me down.
I don’t want to fight, but I’m not going down. I desire to be happy and active for as long as possible.
I love my body and all that it can do but honestly Penelope, I don’t like you.
With a snarl,
