As I wake up this morning, I feel as I often do, like I'd rather have not woken up. By this I don't mean sleep in, I mean that I would have been fine with not waking up at all.
My morning routine, without work as a factor, is a lot more lax. This morning my new configuration of medication consists of 7 pills I must take. I eat some breakfast and postpone taking them.
Taking the pills requires a mental effort that I am having difficulty mustering, they are literally at my bedside to make it easy. Yet turning over that way and opening each bottle, even reading the label seems like lifting 100 pounds.
Abbey rubs her nose and chin on my face, encouraging me, showing me that I have at-least one reason to be here.
I'm itchy and I can feel the need to take my allergy pills, but it's so hard.
Why is it hard? obviously it's not physically hard. Is it that I don't want to face the reality that at age 30 I'm on as many pills as my mom and grandma? Does that really even matter? Is it because two of those pills are for diabetes, a disease that took my great uncle and god-father, a man loved by the local community, a disease for which my cousin is now looking for a kidney? and a disease that my lack of recent discipline and lack of self worth has allowed to somewhat slip from my control?
Or maybe it's because three of those pills are for my mental health, and depression still carries a stigma, even maybe with myself and anxiety is hard to reconcile with the 'master of the universe' that I like to see myself as, especially in my professional life. Maybe I know I have these afflictions intellectually, but I haven't really truly absorbed it.
As I take the pills I feel a relief of something difficult achieved, like I just checked off a major project on the to-do list. I don't understand why it was so hard.
No comments:
Post a Comment