Fear and Loathing in St. Louis

Things are tough right now. This "illness," if you want to call it that, has taken over every aspect of my life. It has turned me into someone I don't like very much, someone I never was before. It's one thing to hate what is happening to you, but a much worse thing to hate, to loathe, who you are.

What started as a headache that wouldn't go away has turned in to so much more. The pain is no longer limited to my head but grips my entire body and mind with a force like no other. I believe it is this pain that has changed me.

I used to be silly and while I was very intelligent, I sometimes fit the dumb blonde stereotype. I used to be hopelessly romantic, fantasizing about the perfect marriage and family I would one day have. I used to be productive. In college I earned a degree in Biology and Chemistry while working three jobs, playing soccer, volunteering and having the time of my life.

Now the laugh-til-you-cry-and-wheeze sessions are few and far between. Instead of feeling passion and excitement, I have feelings of overwhelming rage and despair. It took me all week to find a videographer for our wedding and today, everything fell apart because I couldn't decide what kind of dishes I want to register for.

What I hate even more about this new me is how others are affected. My poor but amazing fiance walks on egg shells because he never knows what mood I'm going to be in, or when it's going to change. My body hurts so bad that is almost impossible to snuggle or get a hug. The fact that I am so physically and emotionally unavailable, to anyone, makes me cry. I'm also very critical and unaccepting of change. The ability to sit back, relax, and let things happen is lost on me.

Then there is the fear. The fear that I won't get better, that I will always be crabby and sad, and that I will end up alone...or worse. I'm actually afraid to go to bed because I never know how I'm going to feel the next day. I'm afraid to make any sort of commitment because there are pretty good odds that I won't be able to keep it. And I'm afraid to share my feelings with my loved ones because I don't want to overwhelm or scare them. I'm a closed book and I hate it.

I know I'm relatively young and still have several baby-making years ahead of me but I'm afraid that I'll never be well enough to take care of a child. That I'll never be able to be a mother, to carry a child, something I so desperately want. If I can't be a mom, I don't want to be here.

Ironically, I'm also very afraid of getting better. And I'm scared that this fear is holding me back. What if all of...this...is all in my head? Even though I go to more doctor's appointments in a week than some people do in a lifetime, what if I'm psychologically causing the pain? Getting better means re-entering the real world, finding a job, keeping a job, and giving up my disability. What happens if I declare that I'm cured, start over, and end up with a never-ending headache again? What other employer is going to pay me two thirds of my salary until age 67 if I become unable to work?

So, yes, I'm scared. I currently live in a sad world and am desperately afraid it will never change. The only thing keeping me going is the small hope that it will.