I saw an old friend at the grocery store today. Actually, she's more of an acquaintance than an old friend, but whenever we see each other, we always stop to chat for a minute. It's been a while, so when she saw me, of course she asked how I was doing.
It's one of those moments where you have a split second debate inside your head. Do I tell the truth, or do I say that everything is good? I opted for the truth, then instantly regretted it. The look on someone's face when you tell them that you have something terribly wrong with you is not worth it.
I vote to lie every time.
And yet . . . people deserve the truth. But I don't think they really want to hear it, and I certainly don't want to explain and say that I'm always walking around in a brain fog, that I have to make lists because I can't remember anything, let alone carry on a normal conversation. That I'm always so dizzy I can hardly stand it and I'm so exhausted all the time that I can't get out of bed or doing anything for long. I wouldn't have been at the grocery store if we hadn't been out of food.
I wouldn't even be sitting here writing this without a will power of solid iron. (laughing sardonically) I have to force myself to do things, because otherwise, I'd never move, think, or do anything. It's too tiring mentally, physically, and emotionally.
I hate being sick. I was always one who loved doing things at the drop of a hat, who loved to sit for hours and write, who loved to be outside with my animals. I find myself watching a lot of TV these days. And now Christmas time is here. Normally I would have already put up my decorations. My little kids want to see Christmas at our house, and all I can think of is lying down in my quiet bedroom.
I have to be honest, I'm having a really hard time. I'm really down about all this, but I just keep telling myself that this is a test. It is only a test. If it were a real emergency, I'd be notified.