All good things must come to an end though, I suppose.
I can't seem to shake this funk I'm in. I'm happy, but I'm not at the same time. There's a battle, and it is effecting my emotions.
I am most definitely not ready for classes to start up. I'm not mentally there yet. And after my experiences from a certain class with a certain professor last semester, you can understand my lack of excitement here. I know I won't have to deal with her anymore, but I think it will take just a few weeks for me to feel okay about it, fully understanding that there isn't going to be an hour of hell three times a week in my life anymore.
Back to the flare up, I am trying really hard to just not be frustrated about it. But it's very hard. I hate being in this kind of pain. I don't want to lose any more weight. I worry about my lack of appetite, the fact that even once I start eating something, I stop after only a few bites because my stomach will decide it's done for the day. This results in me being exhausted too quickly and my blood sugar dropping all the time.
And the pain.
The stupid, stupid pain.
It is worse this time around. It comes in bigger stabs. I find myself doubled over more times a day than I ever have in previous flare ups.
It hits in my lower right quadrant, where the terminal ilium is. These pains shoot from my gut, towards the middle of my stomach, and also down to my hip and into my leg. I also get upper left stomach pain that stabs across the front of my stomach, all the way to the right, and into my chest. I just hurts. I don't know how to explain it. It's like... if you tense yourself up, like you're about to get really really angry and just scream and explode... that tension.. it's like some small marble is inside of me, all tensed up and exploding with fury, spreading its heated tension, scratching its nails and biting its nasty little teeth as hard as it can.
Then it goes away and the nausea returns.
It is not fun and I don't want to deal with it. I try not to think of it, but I think deep down, there's a battle of denial and acceptance. I know I'm sick, but I don't want to get any worse, so a part of me wants to keep living like nothing is wrong, and maybe that will make me all better if I just work at it. Then the other part of me tells me that's a dumb idea and I should really take care of myself and be concerned. But I don't want to be concerned, I just want to get on with my life!
And by the time I decide to just forget about it, the pain returns, I roll my eyes, and just keep moving.
I don't really know what to do, so I guess I'm just gonna keep living.
And maybe continuing in my good habits and looking on the bright side will get me out of this funk. Maybe.