Can we talk about mornings? Mornings can be seriously awful.
I don't have a good scientific explanation for why mornings suck, so I'm usually stuck in bed analyzing what choice I made in the last few days that could've left me feeling so rotten.
Holy hell, my ankles feel like they're 97 years old.
There must've been black mold in the dentist's office. I should've worn my mask. Wait, dentist. Well, I should've showered and taken a bunch of binders right after. Am I on the wrong binders? These ones aren't doing much. Or they're the only thing keeping me going?
God, my chest is a block of concrete. Not a block of smooth, sun-spattered sidewalk concrete that a squirrel might enjoy. The lumpy, leftover concrete slopped out of a truck on a tight corner in Detroit.
Why the f*** did I eat gluten, dairy, and sugar, ALL AT ONCE, at the Christmas party. I deserve to feel like hell. How can I have so little discipline? I should do another cleanse. The last 8 have been useless, though. What doctor can I trick into giving me more Diflucan?
Do I have a chronic ear infection, or do ears just feel like that? Why are my eyeballs pulsing? ...
Tying myself up in diagnostic knots, as I usually do when I wake up feeling steam-rolled, occasionally leads to a good insight, but is more often than not just stressful, critical, and self-shaming. Not the optimal way to start my day.
So here's some encouragement for the next time you wake up feeling terrible:
It's NOT your fault. It's very possibly completely unrelated to anything you did or didn't do. Because you have a freaky illness that throws strange symptoms at you faster than you can google them. Did frenzied cytokines create so much inflammation that it pooled in your poor little joints over night? Or maybe the lactic acid that your cells couldn't metabolize is instead attacking their membranes? Perhaps your hormones are more scrambled than Trump's moral compass? Who the heck knows, but I'm pretty darn sure you aren't responsible for any of that nonsense.
Yeah, But. Ok, so maybe what you ate, where you went, or how much you did actually made you feel a little worse. May I remind you that the restrictions of your disease, while useful until medical science can actually help you, are Bullshit and nearly Impossible (I am 99% certain my doctors couldn't last a week following the lifestyles and diets they prescribe, how about yours?). You're doing your best, and considering what you're up against, that's Damn impressive.
I also know that there are Millions of us Spoonies who are wading through that same horrible morning sludge that you're mired in, right now. So breathe us all in. We're right here, lots of us feeling just as freaked out and alone as you do.