Fear is a four-letter word, but so is Sick.

A couple days ago I wrote extensively about Fear and how I want to move from letting Fear drive me to a place where I let Love lead me.  Assisting me in this endeavor is the book Grace for the Good Girl.  I followed along nicely until about halfway through the book.  Now I have hit one of those areas where I might as well bang my head against the wall as understand what the author is writing about.  Maybe this has to do with my internal “stuff” about fear, or maybe it’s because I don’t feel well…again…and I’m weary and just can’t concentrate.  Take, for example, passages like this one:

“Are you trying to be who Jesus wants you to be? Or do you trust him to bring out who he has already created you to be? It is vital to recognize the difference between these two questions because one leads to death, the other leads to life.”

Oh, great.  Just what I needed.  Another threat that I will end up in death….provoking even more fear in me that if I don’t TRUST ENOUGH I will end up in death.  Isn’t trust an action, too?

So I set the book aside and decided to write instead.  I’m in such a horrific mood, I don’t know whether that’s a good idea or not.  Here’s what’s bugging me today:

Homeschool.  My daughter had a meltdown this morning when she discovered she missed several problems on her math assignment.  She has been working hard, but she still keeps making careless mistakes.  I told her that a careless mistake is what cost millions of dollars with the Hubble. She’s just not interested in the details or in double checking.  I don’t know how else to teach her except to do a Vulcan mind meld. Since I’m human (I think), that option is out.

Time.  I’m feeling uberstretched.  This new curriculum we are following is extremely vigorous.  Although I like that aspect of it, I also hate that aspect of it.  Yesterday my child worked either on school, piano, or skating from 9am until 9pm.  She’s only 12!  That is just too much.  I’ve tried to broach the subject of decreasing skating practice, but that went over about as well as the President’s “Buffet Rule” recommendation. Yesterday she skipped youth group — again — so she could get her school work done.  I’d rather she skip skating.

Only Child Syndrome.  Today in the midst of her meltdown, my daughter told me, “I know how to be alone.”  For some reason, that comment just drove a spike into my heart.  YES, she’s alone!  She’s had to learn how to entertain herself.  Even though I didn’t cause my miscarriages, I did make the decision to stop trying. And maybe my anxiety is what caused all those miscarriages.  Guilt and shame crush me.  If I’d been a better person — one who doesn’t freak out at nausea — then I would have carried another baby to term.  I know in my head that’s probably not true.  But a little piece of my heart believes it. And it hurts.

Sick.  I still hurt today.  This is day five (or six or seven…I’ve lost count) of nastiness of the gastro variety.  It makes me not want to eat but nauseous if I don’t.  So I am miserable if I do, miserable if I don’t. Yesterday afternoon I was in so much pain I could not stand up straight.  But if I went back to the doctor, I doubt they’d find anything.  They’ve already made their minds up about me: she’s a neurotic fibromyalgia patient who feels phantom pains.  Let’s secretly give her dopamine and see if we can dope her up enough to function.  Maybe there is a point to that.  At this juncture I would try anything. As long as I didn’t have to ingest and digest it.  See?  So much of my angst is self inflicted.

Hysterectomy.  I am getting cold feet about having surgery.  I read extensively on the HysterSisters blog and am now certifiably FREAKED OUT. I want to feel better.  But I want to know that whatever it was in my body that caused the endometriosis and adenomyosis is fixed.  Simply removing the organs might not do the trick.  At that point I would be undergoing major surgery….for nothing.  Or maybe it will work.  One of my Facebook friends mentioned to me that she also had adenomyosis, and the hysterectomy completely gave her her life back.  Wow.  Could that happen to me?

Facebook.  I permanently deleted my account because I kept getting comments on photos I had posted from people who were not my friends.  The new update yesterday was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  However, I kind of miss it.  I liked reading about what my friends were up to.  I’ll get used to the new normal and will probably now have time enough to solve all the world’s problems!

Missing Husband Syndrome.  My husband has been out of town all week.  I’m sure this is contributing to my angst and emotional roller coaster.  But he’s probably glad he isn’t home.  Grits for dinner five nights in a row? I’m not much fun at the moment, and my culinary experiments are drastically cut off when I hurt so bad I can’t stand up straight.

Fatigue.  Restless legs kept me up again last night.  I woke up numerous times with my legs crawling all over the place.  At 2am, I was tempted to either take the stupid dope I was prescribed…or to cut off my legs! (just kidding.  That would make too much of a mess.)  Instead I wiggled and jiggled and applied Icy Hot and stuck my feet over the edge of the bed and cranked the heating pad on high heat.  And didn’t sleep.

Emotional Roller Coaster.  For all of the above reasons…or for unknown reasons, I am on a crying jag today.  Commercials…books…comments…thoughts…food…websites…everything makes me weep crocodile tears.  Except these are REAL crocodile tears, not the fake ones. I don’t know why I bothered with eyeliner today.  It’s already dripped into oblivion.

Hair.  This is trivial.  But hey — I am a woman — and bad hair days are a big deal!  A few days ago, I think a very mean person snuck in while I was sleeping, swiped my hair, and replaced it with someone else’s gray, coarse, unruly mane.  It doesn’t LOOK gray because I keep it colored.  But I’m so disgusted with it that I think I’m ready to embrace the Crown of Glory.  Only in my case, it will look more like a Crown of Mop.  My fibromyalgia has messed with my hands to such an extent that I can’t even use a straightener or a hair dryer and brush the way I used to.  When I try to use my awesome round brush to smooth out my hair, my hand “catches” with pain, and I drop the brush. So today I just blew it dry and let it stick out all over the place.  I better get used to it.  This must be the new me. Stuck-her-finger-in-the-light-socket Beauty.

Those are just a few of the many balls I have juggling around in my brain.  I’m going to go out on a limb here and do what that Grace for the Good Girl book said to do: TRUST Jesus to make it all work out.  It’s high time I immersed myself in HIS words.  I’ve been reading through the Bible chronologically again this year, and I feel a real sense of loss that I haven’t been spending time reading the words of Jesus.  I’m almost to the New Testament…in just a couple more days!  But I’ll step outside the “chronological reading plan” box and read Jesus on my own.  Because I like breaking the rules?  Nope.  But I sense I need His peace like peanut butter needs bananas. Maybe if I sink into His words, the TRUST part will come easier.  Is it too much to ask for the Fear part and the Sick part to go away, too?  I guess it is.  After all, one of my favorite lines from my favorite movie, The Princess Bride, speaks to this issue: