Grieving the loss of..... well.... me.

Why today, of all days in the last 5 months, did I choose to start writing? Well, to be frank, today kind of sucked. My kids were either at each others' throats all day, or they were arguing with me, or simply ignoring anything I had to say.

"Please put your shoes in the bench."
Nothing.
"Please don't frog jump inside the car."
Frog jump. Tears because of a bonked head.
"No more snacks."
Find Miss S with a string cheese in her hands 60 seconds later.
The list goes on.

And then I saw it hanging in a frame on my wall- a photo of me from nearly 6 years ago, holding baby boy C and smiling. I remember that day. And despite my postpartum and my colicy newborn, I was a happy person on that day. Today, not so much. I suddenly envied the woman in that photo. At the time I knew my baby would outgrow his colic and I just had postpartum. Moms recovered from that. And there were medications with minimal to no side-effects for the meantime. I had all these hopes for my new family that was suddenly 3 people and no longer 2. I had a huge passion for writing and art and music. Today, sitting on the couch and looking at that photo I felt like I was a different person. Instead of struggling with an illness that had an end, I'm facing a lifelong one. One that will require constant management and attention. I no longer feel this burning passion to stay up all night and write because something brilliant, or what I think to be brilliant, comes to mind. The idea of staying up past 10 is exhausting. I'm also very much struggling with the side-effects of my medications. Fatigue and constant drowsiness plague me every minute of the day. I mean, do I really have to go all the way upstairs to put this in the laundry room? That's so far away! I just want to lie down here on the spot and go to sleep. Only to wake up and still be sleepy. And not sleepy in a I didn't get enough sleep last night kind of way but rather a sleepy because I have just been given anesthesia kind of way.

Yeah, I am grieving. Grieving the loss of who I used to be, or thought I was when I was buried in ignorance. I miss that person. I miss the energy I had and passion that burned in me. And all I can really do is hope that it will come back. With all of my heart I believe there has to be a medication, either in combination with others or on its own, that will help me find my way back to that person. Or at least, a more knowledgeable version of that person.

Since my diagnosis, my faith has been shaky. And many times I just want to turn upward and yell WTF?! Why me? But then this little voice inside of me tells me I will find my way back and I will be that person again. The one with the genuine smile on her face, and that gleam of fervor in her eye. I know that God has put me on this journey for a reason. And although I happen to think it's an awful journey, it is my faith that tells me there is a silver lining. And it's up to me to find it. How do I do that? By keeping on trucking on. Yup, that's right. By forging ahead. By throwing myself my pity party today so that I can get up, all cried out, and tackle another day tomorrow. I have to believe that there are ways to be a successfully high-functioning person with BP. And I am hell bent on being one of those people. Because I want that smile back and I want that gleam in my eye again.

I just have to remind myself that it's okay to grieve the loss of my old life. And that like any time you lose something, there is a new way of life, without whatever it is that was lost, to be lived. And that living that life will eventually be fulfilling for me. I just need to find my new norm. If only I could reach out into obscurity and pluck it to suddenly have here for myself. But that's the thing about "normal", it takes a while to be made. Because normal is simply constructed of a whole lot of consistency. And consistency is simply day after day of the same or similar things. So here's to pity parties and finding new normals.