The internet is full up with reflective posts about this last year. All the things that have been done and accomplished. Some nods to the difficulties, lots of nods to the lessons learned so the tests don't still have the same sting.
I'm sitting in the middle of the test, though. As the new year clicks over we are supposed to be planning our move back to the midwest but instead I am whipping up elemental shakes for my love and praying on the bathroom floor that his flare dies down. I am buying goat milk kefir in hopes that it will help and tabulating just how much we are spending in probiotics this month in an attempt to keep the strong meds at bay. And in two days I am myself due for an infusion and can feel the inflammation clawing at my descending colon, screaming for I know not what. What do you want, dear body? How can I help? Please, tell me, I will do it.
So the dark of winter feels very tangible right now.
I thought of putting together my list of things I have accomplished in 2012 but it feels like a big long lump of time just spent getting over the shock of having been hospitalized last Christmas. It feels like I jumped somehow from January to December, all those months in between slipped right past me in my efforts to survive the year.
Yesterday I clung to Ben as I cried. I just want ONE YEAR with no one sick! Is that too much to ask?? I ranted.
I felt like a whiner as I cried to my mom on the phone about Ben being ill. It isn't like you are whining about some small thing, honey, you guys have been handed a raw deal. Her words helped and then my mind went instantly to all those who have it worse than we do. Sure, husband and wife with chronic autoimmune illness is no walk in the park but we have so much to be thankful for.
But the truth is... I really really want to feel like all the images I keep seeing of people my age out dressed up and celebrating New Year's Eve. But maybe most people are thinking the same thing. Maybe those images aren't real?