Okay, so here I am. It's 4:25 am and I am here writing. Why? Because I can't sleep. I've been up since about 3:30 because I'm sick and can't breathe. I've been sick since Sunday. It hit me really suddenly too. I woke up that morning to go to practice and I just did not feel good. Saturday I had thrown up each time I tried to eat, but I didn't feel bad. Then Sunday...BAM! I was down for the count. Fever, vomiting, sore throat, coughing, stuffy head, everything. I thought I was going to pass out during worship (which would have been really bad cause I was on the platform playing bass). I had no idea what was hitting me. So I have been in this state since Sunday. Luckily, my fever has gone down significantly since then, and I'm getting better. But still.
I just got done with being on my butt for my broken ankle. Now this??? What the hell??? And this isn't the first time. I mean I am sick a lot. And I hate it. My mother was a hypochondriac. She was always "sick". I vowed never to be like her to the point where I went to the opposite extreme and always tell people "I'm fine". I never admit when anything is wrong. And it seems like there IS ALWAYS something wrong. So yesterday, I was relating my latest bout in an email to one of my friends and she said "these attacks have got to stop!". And I'm like "huh"???? I have no freaking idea what she's talking about. Then Danny tells me that she's talking about a charismatic thing where people say that you're being attacked by satan or something. And that's what made me think about my mother. I personally can't imagine living under the umbrella of hypochondriac-ism or whatever it is. All I know is I never wanted to be like that....always sick with something in bed. But I do have my stuff...I have asthma. That's the worst part of this virus whatever it is. I get stuffed up and I can't breathe. Then my asthma kicks in and it turns into something bronchial. Now it's something bronchial. I'm up to a breathing treatment every 4 hours.
I am attached to my nebulizer. And I hate it. I can't breathe without it. I went to bed about midnight after taking a treatment. Here I am at 4 am just finishing another treatment. And I'll do it again at 8 am. And the vicious cycle will continue. And quite honestly, I'm really struggling with letting people pray for me. I know they do it anyway, but I'm really just tired of asking for prayer because I'm sick or hurt. I wonder if maybe my friend might be right. I wonder if maybe since I refuse to be like my mother and fall into that trap of fear if the devil is just like "fine...then you WILL be sick for real".
And I am doing the right things. I am eating healthier than ever before. Before I broke my leg, I was walking every day like at least a mile. Most often, more than that! So it's not like I'm lacking exercise or anything. I just don't know what to do anymore. I just had to vent. Danny always gives me a hard time about how I am a horrible sick person because I never stay down. And tonight he said something jokingly that hurt. He said "she just wants to be sick the rest of her life" or something along those lines. And that really hurt. Because I don't. And he knows that.
So I just had to vent. I'm so tired of this. I don't understand it.
I just got done with being on my butt for my broken ankle. Now this??? What the hell??? And this isn't the first time. I mean I am sick a lot. And I hate it. My mother was a hypochondriac. She was always "sick". I vowed never to be like her to the point where I went to the opposite extreme and always tell people "I'm fine". I never admit when anything is wrong. And it seems like there IS ALWAYS something wrong. So yesterday, I was relating my latest bout in an email to one of my friends and she said "these attacks have got to stop!". And I'm like "huh"???? I have no freaking idea what she's talking about. Then Danny tells me that she's talking about a charismatic thing where people say that you're being attacked by satan or something. And that's what made me think about my mother. I personally can't imagine living under the umbrella of hypochondriac-ism or whatever it is. All I know is I never wanted to be like that....always sick with something in bed. But I do have my stuff...I have asthma. That's the worst part of this virus whatever it is. I get stuffed up and I can't breathe. Then my asthma kicks in and it turns into something bronchial. Now it's something bronchial. I'm up to a breathing treatment every 4 hours.
I am attached to my nebulizer. And I hate it. I can't breathe without it. I went to bed about midnight after taking a treatment. Here I am at 4 am just finishing another treatment. And I'll do it again at 8 am. And the vicious cycle will continue. And quite honestly, I'm really struggling with letting people pray for me. I know they do it anyway, but I'm really just tired of asking for prayer because I'm sick or hurt. I wonder if maybe my friend might be right. I wonder if maybe since I refuse to be like my mother and fall into that trap of fear if the devil is just like "fine...then you WILL be sick for real".
And I am doing the right things. I am eating healthier than ever before. Before I broke my leg, I was walking every day like at least a mile. Most often, more than that! So it's not like I'm lacking exercise or anything. I just don't know what to do anymore. I just had to vent. Danny always gives me a hard time about how I am a horrible sick person because I never stay down. And tonight he said something jokingly that hurt. He said "she just wants to be sick the rest of her life" or something along those lines. And that really hurt. Because I don't. And he knows that.
So I just had to vent. I'm so tired of this. I don't understand it.
