Me

I am not who I used to be. 

When I look in a mirror, I don't even recognize myself. All I see is a disease that has made my life a living hell.

I know it is not who I am, but it is hard to ignore. 

If you saw me, you probably wouldn't notice. Sure there is the rash on my face, but it has it's good days and is easily covered with makeup. You might notice my hair is a little thinner, but hey, I am getting older. You would probably notice the bags under my eyes, but would assume that I just need to go to bed earlier.

What you can't see is the fatigue, the pain, the frustration at not being me anymore.

I now start my days with one of my two daily cocktails (no, not the good kind). Followed by washing a good part of what is left of my hair down the drain and praying that I have enough energy to both shave my legs and brush my teeth in the same morning.

I hate who I am becoming. 

I hate being the mom who can't stand long enough to make dinner each night. I hate that I am so tired - or in so much pain - that I spend most of the day in bed or on the couch. I hate that my kids are getting the short end of the deal.

I spend each day trying to figure out what must be done and making lists so that, in the midst of all the brain fog, I don't forget something really important.

I miss being able to do the things I used to do.

I can't go out to coffee and to the kids' game in the same day. I can't grocery shop and still go to the park. I have to choose what is required and what I say no to.

I miss having friends. 

I wish that my kids understood. I wish that they didn't have to see me like this. It makes me so angry (and sad) when the 4 year old looks at pictures and asks, "that was before you were sick, huh mama?"

I wish I were whole. 

I am scared of who I will become. 

I am scared that my kids will only remember the bad days. I am scared that the Soldier won't know what do with a broken wife.

I am scared of losing me.