Feel Guilty, Angry, Sick...I Want to Run Away

I'm angry. And tired. And sick.

I'm angry at being tired and sick. I'm tired of being sick and angry. I'm sick of being angry and tired.

That sounds redundant, but it actually isn't. Anyway...

It's been over a month now since I've been on high doses of steroids. There's no helping it. With Addison's, my immune system is compromised, and as long as anybody else in the house is sick, I need to stay on my higher doses until all of us are well again. Being up on the meds has it's good advantages--like not dying and stuff like that. It also has it's side effects--water retention, weight gain, insomnia, poofey face, and this intense feeling that I guess some might call aggression. I think of it as a low-grade anger. Do you know how hard it is to be a good wife and mom when you're ticked off before anybody even starts whining?!

It still creeps me out that JFK was getting shot up with this stuff (plus testosterone) during the Cuban Missile Crisis!

Back to me and my issues. I don't like to admit it, but I've been struggling this round more than usual. It feels like I just can't win. I feel like I'm supposed to be running forward, but all I can manage to do is keep from falling backward, so I'm not gaining any ground but I'm exhausted. I want a break so badly but feel guilty needing one. After all, shouldn't I be able to handle things? Wouldn't God only give me responsibilities I could manage on my own if I'd just quit being such a baby?

Supermom!This is not me.

Well, I finally broke down and admitted I needed help. I expected a guilt-trip lecture from God. What happened...well, first let me tell you about the women in the Bible who had cramps.

Yes, I know that sounds like a major subject change, but stick with me.

In the Old Testament, when a woman was on her period, she was required to leave the Israelite camp and remain outside it until she was "clean" again. Since I'm confessing here, I'll admit that I thought that was pretty mean of God. It wasn't their fault they were feeling like crud. To send them away seemed insult to injury.

"Go away!"

However, one day (probably when I had cramps and wanted to run away), I realized what a gift this actually was. For several days out of the month, God gave every woman in the camp a break. She left, got away, didn't have to force herself to respond to "What's for dinner?" or "Honey, do you know where I put my tunic?" or "Mom, the tent's leaking again!"

Wow, can I go, too? My family is wonderful. It's not them. It's me. Now, before you start envisioning me in a tent in my back yard (What a joke. For one, I can't see lugging all my prescriptions and food requirements out there, and for another I think 50 degrees is freezing so it just ain't gonna happen.), I came up with another idea for getting a break.

So finally, after months of telling myself to just keep going, just suck it up, just get over myself, I opened my mouth and said that I was not doing well. I'm not getting better. The steroids make it hard to sleep and I'm very, very tired. My emotions are freaking out and I just need some help with the everyday responsibilities.

Did God give me that guilt-trip lecture? No. What did He give me?

I'll tell you tomorrow...

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