I've been a bit MIA this summer, and the reason is that many many things in my life are completely up in the air right now. It's a very unsettling feeling, but one I've been forced to accept. My boyfriend has found a job up in northern California (we live in southern Cali currently, not living together). It's been a bit of a process because we haven't been sure for the last 3 months whether or not it would work out. It's still not completely final yet and we won't know if it's final until a week or less before we have to move. However it's a great opportunity for him (us, even), so worth all the stress in some ways, but it's definitely been emotionally taxing for me. He's also been gone for most of summer doing some program in northern Cali so I had to deal with the long distance as well. I haven't been sleeping well, I have insomnia constantly. Will it happen, won't it happen. It has not been fun and can't imagine the stress and lack of sleep doing me any good. It's a wonder I've made any improvement this summer at all!
Moving is not exactly something I'm looking forward to. My family and whole support system is down here. My parents help me with laundry and cleaning my apartment. Up until 6 month ago, they were doing my grocery shopping and cooking for me. My brother and his wife help too when random things come up. My brother also just (well, 7 months ago, holy cow) had a beautiful little girl; my first niece! I am head over heels in love with her and have been wanting nieces and nephews for like...13 years. Literally, been waiting forever! It's just terrifying to think of leaving this behind because the best thing for me (most people with CFS?) is routine and a controlled situation. The unknown (even the smallest, most seemingly insignificant of things) scares me to an endless degree.
And at the same time, moving is my beacon of hope. After much much discussion, my boyfriend and I decided that I will not look for a job right away. I absolutely hate the idea of giving up my independence and not being able to support myself, to the core of my being. But I am taking my pride and my stubbornness and stuffing it somewhere it can't be found. Sacrifice for wellness, a lesson I've learned well these last few years. Anyway, I'm currently working 25 hours a week and it has only become manageable in the last few months since I started the antibiotics for the Lyme disease. Well, manageable as long as no one asks me to do anything that requires stepping away from my beloved desk work. I am convinced (rather, desperately hoping) that if I take the energy I use for all work-related activities and apply it to slow, controlled stretching/yoga/etc I can increase my speed of recovery. I might be setting myself up for a good ol' dream shattering, but oh well. So I will take time off and try a controlled increase-of-activity regime (to be discussed in detail once I figure out what the heck that will be).
So, now, I'm slowly packing. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm packing. And it's exhausting, and terrifying, and exciting, and I just want it to be over so I can get back to my structured, controlled existence once again.