Off Come the Rose Colored Glasses

I have been unable to write lately. Every time I sit down to post, I end up staring blankly at the screen, fingers poised over the keys, ready to type something, anything. At first I thought it was a simple case of writer's block, because it's extremely rare that I don't have something to yap about. This morning I realized that I'm stuck because I'm dealing with some tough stuff right now, and I needed some time to come to terms with what's happening.

My appointment with the cardiologist went well, but it certainly wasn't what we expected. Dr. Otero believes that the high, tachy heart rates are caused by stress and anxiety, not an arrhythmia, which was the affliction in 2006. I realize that this is good news, but it was a huge blow to me and my perception of how things are. Ever since my mom was diagnosed with cancer last July, I have held it together, been strong, kept going, one foot in front of the other, determined not to let myself fall apart. You know, the "pillar of strength" type. Yes, there have been some bad days, but bad days are healthy once in a while. For the most part, I thought that I was handling things in a way that would have made mom proud. We were raised to be strong women, of the "pick yourself up, dust yourself off and move on" variety. No feeling sorry for yourself! Now, I just feel weak, and humiliated, and let down. I SHOULD be able to handle this, I WANT to handle this, and I still don't want to fall apart, but apparently that is what is happening when I have these so-called "attacks". I am beginning to grasp that this has been a slow decline, one I didn't realize was happening. It began in my heart, and has steadily moved right down to my toes. I used to be a morning person, and lately it's hard to drag myself out of bed. I used to care about how I was dressed and how my hair looked, now, I have to force myself to get in the shower in the morning (don't worry, I do shower at least once a day). My whole body hurts most days, which can be chalked up to the evil D-word I'm not ready to say (or type). I'm just so tired. I want to surround myself in the cozy blanket of family until this passes, but I can't just lie down and let it take over. I will keep fighting, and fighting and fighting, and I will be okay. I have to get the following off my chest:
The number one thing never to say to a person who is grieving:
1. "I know how you feel, I felt like that when so and so insert illness/death here "
NO, you DON'T know how I feel. It's different for everyone, and comparing your situation to mine only makes me feel worse. I'm sure you did feel similar feelings, and I'm sure that your situation is/was just as tragic, but right now, I need be selfish and feel what I need to feel, and sometimes, that is indescribable. It's not that I don't care, really, if you know me, you know that I DO care, probably too much sometimes. I just need to deal with me first.

This whole post probably sounds incredibly selfish and self-pitying. That may be true. It may not. Right now, I just don't know. I do know that I don't want to feel this way (who does), and that I'm trying to fix it. It's time to take off the rose colored glasses and realize that maybe, just maybe, I don't have to be strong all the time. Maybe it's okay to be sad right now. The question is, how do you do that?

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