Hopelessness

Amidst the unpredictable torrential rain showers, my mom came over yesterday afternoon to honor my birthday. It was really nice to spend quality time with her, even though the rain made outdoor activities prohibitive. She had not been to my house for a few months, so I proudly showed her around, pointing out the various home improvement projects we’ve tackled during that time. My mom is skilled in many things, including house and yard tasks, so I’m sure our hackneyed jobs were unimpressive. However, she made me feel good about them and that was a saving feeling on a day where I was feeling pretty low.

Her visit was timed well because it helped fend off loneliness and depression, which were creeping up around me all morning, mostly due to severe bloating, digestive distress, and wretched joint pain. I am so frustrated about the uncomfortable sequelae that keep “punishing” me when I try to be brave and have a new food. It’s abundantly clear that my body hates when I eat pretty much anything. It’s getting so unworkable at this point because my body kills, I can’t leave the house, it’s impossible to get comfortable, and none of my clothes fit over the bloat. I’m truly starting to fear that the rest of my life is going to be this physically miserable. I honestly don’t know how I would get through that and have any sort of livable life. This is the definition of hopelessness. Clearly, my mind is not in a good place today. My physical pain is polluting my outlook, despite my constant goal to fight that tendency. Maybe I will find a way to turn it around today; maybe, tomorrow will be better.

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