Currently

I've had a rough go of it lately.  For 3 months now, I can count perhaps 3 "good" days.  The rest of those days I would describe as agonizing--full of itching, burning, stinging, flaky, dry, painful, nerve "zingers" and more.  I wish the good days would have been more plentiful during this time but I'm making it through somehow.

I feel like my first 2 months of withdrawal were awful, then I had 2 months of feeling "okay-ish" (not great but tolerable) and now the past 3 months have felt like hell again.  Is it actually worse?  Or am I just tired and feeling it more?  I just can't tell.  I haven't slept well in weeks.

My arms, which looked nearly healed 2 months ago are covered in thick, patchy, dry skin.  Pink and irritated.  The entire surface of my face has been peeling constantly for months without pause.  The crooks of my elbows and knees looked completely healed up for a few weeks and then they broke out in thick, dry, pink rashes and have shown little sign of clearing up.  It all hurts so badly.  And so constantly.

One of the worst problems that I'm having right now is sweating or getting overheated.  Sweating is incredibly painful right now.  Sweating brings on a very intense "stinging" feeling and feels like hundreds of tiny pins are prickling my skin.  And then it brings on a very intense itch attack after that.  The main areas that this is happening is on my neck, chest, in the crooks of my arms & legs.  Even the smallest amount of physical exertion brings it on (like carrying the laundry upstairs).  Or just a couple minutes out in the sun.  Laying my head on a pillow to rest causes heat and has thus been making it difficult to sleep.  I wake up ever few hours with an itch attack from my neck overheating.   Even emotional anxiety can set off the sweating.

While teaching piano lessons, I've noticed myself getting overheated when I'm trying to come up with different ways of explaining concepts to students.  I wouldn't say that I felt emotionally anxious during these times--perhaps just thinking intensely--but I feel a very drastic change in my body temperature.  Then, BAM, I'm suddenly super itchy.... and distracted by my skin while I'm trying to teach.

A few days ago, one of my 9 year old students said "you look red today."  All I could say was "yes, I am red, aren't I?"  This particular student is always asking when my cats are going to come home from "vacation."  (Our cats have been staying with family while I heal--have I mentioned that recently?)  She draws pictures of my cat Sneaker and gives them to me.  She asks if I've gone to visit the cats.  She asks why it's taking so long.

I keep asking that last question, too.

I've felt quiet.

My heart and my spirit have felt so quiet lately.  No words seem adequate for anything.  Sometimes it's an overabundance of joy that leaves me speechless.  Other times it's an overwhelming sadness.  Even contentment and comfort have kept me in a quiet place.

The longer my physical disabilities continue, the more quiet I have become.  I'm improving, overall, but the improvements are incredibly slow and sometimes wane from better to worse.  If I've learned anything through this, it's that physical disabilities can truly weigh heavily on a person's life and spill over onto their emotional and spiritual health.  Perhaps that's an obvious statement, but you truly feel the depths of it when you're dealing with chronic and life-altering issues.

I've also learned that I can't control everything myself, no matter how hard I try (and, oh, I've tried).  I had more words when I truly thought that I could control my own healing process by myself.  I've acquired many books-worth of information through reading and research and I wanted to share all of that information with others when I thought that I was the one in control.  But, truth be told, after many, many months I don't know what's helping or what's not.  I've had to adjust and readjust my course so many countless times.  I've experimented for days, weeks, months at a time and still I have no answers.  I'm tired of guessing and taking stabs (even "educated" stabs) in the dark.  I'm not giving up, but I'm done believing that I'm the one that has hold of the reins. I am certainly not in control of any of this.  My spirit feels quiet and humbled.

I am laid low in the dust; preserve my life according to your word.  

Psalm 119:25