The last couple of weeks have been a challenge.
Not that you would think that from my latest holibobs Instagram feed that suggests I’m springing around like a spring lamb in sunny Devon.
I can assure you, I’m not.
This week I’ve suffered from the worst fatigue since the stroke. And with fatigue usually comes its equally bothersome sibling, anxiety. I presume my brain is desperately trying to make sense of all the unpleasantness that’s going on physically – the heaviness of limbs as if you’re wading through a swamp wearing a suit of armour; the numbness appearing everywhere in your body (who’d have thought eyelids could feel numb?); the dizziness; nausea; weakness and utter exhaustion.
And then, once fatigue has subsided, anxiety sets in. The racing heart; the tingling; the vertigo; the tight chest; the impending doom.
Some say it’s the weather and warm temps can make some conditions worse (guess I’m not moving to Spain after all!) but whatever it is, please go away.
Im fed up with the constant rotation of panic and physical and mental depletion.
The other challenge is to hide this as much as possible from my children. I can see it unsettles them. It breaks my heart. Why can’t Mummy play? Why can’t Mummy dance around? Why doesn’t Mummy pick me up? Why doesn’t Mummy talk? Why doesn’t Mummy laugh? Why does Mummy cry? I try to hide it or make light of it and even explain it a bit to my eldest, but at the end of the day I’m not there anymore, not how I used to be and they know it, they see it, they feel it.
I read the other day how children mostly remember how you played and interacted with them. I worry myself sick what kind of childhood I’m able to give to them now. It’s not what I wanted for my children and I feel sorry for them. I permanently let them down.
Same with my husband. He doesn’t moan and honest to God does EVERYTHING. And still with a smile on his face. And there’s me, sometimes unable to move a little finger or form a coherent sentence when fatigue hits me. I let him down too.
I’m hoping I’ll get through this tough time in one piece and that my kids won’t have any lasting memories of Mummy “being tired” all the time.
What I take away as a positive is that I’ve finally understood how my fatigue works and now I have to start accepting this as my new life. My body is telling me to slow down. What that means for the immediate future I don’t know, but all I can manage at the moment is to take one day at a time.
Thanks for reading x