I have nothing to say...

I apologized to a friend today. Perhaps I didn’t need to. Perhaps I did.

But, it’s this little act, and my friend’s response to it, that seems to be breaking my silence.

I haven’t blogged this week. Not really anyway. I’m experiencing one of those rare times in my life when I actually feel as though I have nothing to say. What multitude of explanations I could give to this phenomenon…

Anyone ever watch the Muppets? Phenomenon…makes me think of those odd little creatures that sing “Mahna Mahna, Doo Doo Doo Doo-Doo”… “Phenomenon, Doo Doo Doo Doo-Doo”…

Uh, Yeah…back on topic.

*taps fingers* Not blogging, speechless, multitudes of explanation….

My ability to put brain to fingers to keyboard seems to be occluded by stress, frustration, illness and exhaustion. The latter three, I’m sure, are most likely being fueled by the stress.  I spend a majority of my time hobbling around in a fog. I walk into rooms and forget why I’m there.  I begin a task and can’t remember what goal I was seeking to accomplish. I put a package of hot dog buns in the grocery cart, head for the hot dogs, and walk right past them to get my other groceries, while never giving the hot dogs a second thought until I get home and realize I don’t have them.

I’ve fallen three times in the past week – two of them while at work. I’m avoiding stairs and …. stares.

I’m watching the calendar expectantly, as if it will make my neurology appointment come faster.

I’m fielding questions from peers.

Questions asked out of nosiness rather than concern.

I wonder why then, me being aware of their intent, I initially felt as though I must explain when they were brazen enough to inquire. My first impulse was to answer their rudeness with rudeness of my own, “It’s none of your damn business!”

Instead, I just sigh and say, “I’ll be fine.” When most people ask what’s going on with you they really don’t want the answer anyway.

Besides, how do you explain feeling as though your body is turning against you? How do you explain something you don’t understand yourself? Clearly, I haven’t figured this out yet, as those I do try to explain it to just look confused.

My body rebels, and me, who has always been a fighter, can’t do anything but sit here and take it; all the while wishing someone could put all the pieces together and come up with an answer.

Every year there is a new diagnosis, a new autoimmune response, to add to the list of ones I already have, and it seems no one but me sees that there must be some common denominator that isn’t being factored into the equation.  How else do you, over the course of time, find yourself diagnosed with seven different autoimmune disorders?

One or two? Sure, no problem. But seven? Seriously? Seven different, and completely unrelated, disorders that cause my body to turn against itself and attack healthy tissue?

I’m not buying it. Not for a minute.

And I’m mad.

Not just a little mad. I’m really stinking angry.

I’m really stinking angry and I’m too tired to do anything about it. I want to kick something but I’m afraid if I lift my foot off the floor to try it that I’m gonna fall flat on my face. Because now, the newest thing to turn on me is my legs.

There’s nothing so humbling as being angry and not having a way to direct it outward.

I’m stuck.

I have no sense of direction.

I’m angry.

And, for someone who felt they had nothing to say, I think I may have said too much today….