So maybe the birds started tweeting prematurely. Maybe the violin concerto was cued a tad too early. Perhaps the sunbeams drenching me in golden light were speaking out of turn.
I was feeling SO good that in November 2009, I signed up for springtime classes. I opted to pursue my CADAC (Certified Alcohol & Drug Abuse Counselor). And I was feeling SO good that I chose to move out of my mother’s (I am so grateful to her for sharing her home with us and helping when I was sick …. but it takes a special kind of grownup to live with their parent. I promise, there’s no judgment there. Some people are best friends with their parents and it makes financial and emotional sense for both …. but …. I’m not that special).
Working full time, being a mom, attending AA meetings, going to school AND moving was a whole lotta chew in my mouth. But it was worth it.
My downstairs neighbor seemed pretty cool. The place had a nice FEEL. It had a fireplace, nice colors on the walls, a sun room ….. decent neighborhood. I loved it.
I did my homework every week, but my reading the chapters was gradually tapering off. In these Pass/Fail courses, I maintained a strong A average …. that would result in a P on my report card. I felt tired. But why shouldn’t I? This is the most I had done in years! It would wear off.
Each week I had to leave for school at 7AM on Saturday. I rather enjoyed the light at this time of day, the absence of traffic on the highway, and the way the diluted morning light played on the ice formations upon the “falling rock zones.” It was like driving through a glassy cathedral of sunlight.
One Saturday I woke up. Daylight was particularly bright in my room. My brain felt like it was whooshing around inside my skull. My eyes scanned the room and focused on the blurry red neon numbers of my alarm clock. One. One PM.
Suddenly very awake, I sat bolt upright and stared at my wall. If I tossed on clothes this minute and drove there, I could make the last hour of the last class.
My head churned, misfiring some thoughts. I thought it through. I had perfect attendance and there were no tests today. And even if there were, I slept through them.
There was something about this calibur of tiredness that felt familiar. It was on this very day, at this exact moment, that I knew I wasn’t just working too hard.
With everyday tiredness, you can sleep it off. You wake up feeling refreshed. With lyme disease, the tiredness leads to sleep that results in no relief. Sleep is like a respite from feeling tired. Then, when you awaken, you feel almost exactly the same.
Initially, it felt like a rapid onset. However, I looked back on the past couple of months and realized it was long coming.
I felt discouraged. I made all that physical headway. I even talked about lyme in the past tense. My weight was down. My body was getting deflabified (less flabbergasted, heh, heh). Now I lived in a second floor apartment with laundry in the basement. Do you have any idea how far two flights of stairs feel to someone with fatigue? And what if the arthritis comes back? And NOW what if I can’t work? What if it gets worse? My mom isn’t here to help me. What if I sleep all day again? What if I can’t clean? What if, what if, what IF?
My brain shot rapidfire thoughts as I sat bolt upright in my bed that afternoon. My son stayed at my mom’s on Friday nights, partly to curb some withdrawal from moving away from her and partly so I could get up and go in the morning and not have to disrupt him. My being a single mom and sleeping until one in the afternoon was never the less stunning to me.