It does not “progress from one stage to another in a single series of steps”.
Nor is it sequential.
It is not straight, direct, undeviating, or any other part of google’s definition of “linear”.
The two steps forward, one step back metaphor cannot contain this shit, and if I graphed it, it would look like the cardiogram of an alien heartbeat on acid.
You get the point. It’s unpredictable. No combination of daily charting, mindfulness, accommodations, and careful planning seems change that fact. It’s true that overall, with the barrage of treatments, supplements, and lifestyle changes, the intensity of my attacks has decreased over the past year, but in terms of any sort of palpable progress on a smaller scale, I’m learning that it’s best to keep my expectations in check.
I could tell you about how this makes me better at going with the flow, taking life as it comes, and living in the moment, and I wouldn’t be lying. But I don’t want to tell you about that. I want to tell you about how it SUCKS.
It sucks to cancel plans. It sucks to push through a day of work when your mind is mostly occupied by unpleasantness. It sucks to bail on that awesome thing you just volunteered to do because you finally thought you were ready. It sucks when you scale back on your treatments ’cause you think you can handle that shit, and then suddenly you need to ramp up your treatments ’cause it sucks. It sucks when you can sing again, and you cry ’cause you’re so happy, and then for the next two weeks you can’t sing and you cry ’cause it sucks. It sucks when it sucks ‘cuase it sucks it sucks it sucks it totally sucks.
And you know what else totally SUCKS? NOT EATING CHOCOLATE! WTF!!
Lucy gets it.
p.s. The next post will be uplifting. Truly inspirational. It will include only minimal self-indulgent complaining. I promise.