February 19th 2019
There are distinctly two different mes. I am forced to love them both. One side can get out of bed in the morning, have coffee,get dressed. The other me can't lift her legs out of bed. Shes a prisoner in her own body. Shes so full of medication, the world spins around her. She uses all her strength to shower. The first shower in two days. Her hair has finally been washed. She rubs body cream all over, even though her own hands on her skin hurt. The movement hurts. Standing becomes difficult. A clean dress instead of pajamas just to feel somewhat normal. Back in bed she goes. The next hurdle is to rehydrate. She fights back tears many times today. Sometimes the tears win. She's back in bed now, just wishing she could find the strength to get out of bed again. Comb her hair. Try to eat. She wants her children home with the normal her. She wants another dinner like last night. Happy. Healthy. Living. Because today isn't living. Today is trying. Coping. A test of w