Everyone has something to tell me. Everyone has an opinion as to what's really wrong with me. Everyone has an opinion on what I should do about it. Everyone has something to say about how I put it all out there. Everyone's worried, but the way I deal with my own worry isn't ok.
It's walking a tightrope you can't ever stay on top of. One on hand, if I'm too honest about feeling bad, its too hard to read. If I try and do things and be out, I'm doing too much and being counterproductive to my healing.
This is harder for me than any of you, and for everything you read, see, hear, or think you know, you have no idea. I don't write looking for pity. I don't write for your sympathy. I don't write for your compliments. I don't need to get sick to reconnect with every friend I've ever had or lost long love ever lost. While I appreciate the positive response, and I am perplexed by some of the negative, this is my situation. This is my outlet. This is my life. This is what I need.
Sometimes I make the wrong move. We all do. Sometimes I think I can do something that I really can't do. Sometimes I think the leap is shorter than it really is. Sometimes it's a metaphorical skinned knee, other times things end up in ICU. That's life. You go through the best you can and hopefully you cover the head, neck, and kidneys when the aftermath hits.
This is one of those throw up your hands days. Maybe tomorrow won't be so bad.
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