Additionally, with the immense emotional toll the battle over my records is taking, I am left bereft of energy and, occasionally, even the will to go on. This issue with the hospitals has me unbelievably low, and every time I turn around, they are ready with a new volley. Coincidentally (I’m sure) Risk Management called my doctor while I was there for a very early morning appointment. It took all I have to not just lose it then. Like I said, it was probably coincidence, but it felt (and feels) like I am being monitored. It is a very disturbing feeling. It also drains an already low reserve of energy to almost nothing. The continual worry of this situation is stressing me more than I thought.
I love my Facebook family, I enjoy the epic cute war, the plots of otters and sharing our lives. I just have to prioritize a little differently. While I used to be able to write, chat, post and play at the same time, I now can do just one thing at a time. As the months have worn on, and my cache of energy has been depleted—sometimes I imagine it’s like an aquifer slowly being drained without the “recharge” of rains it needs—I have played on social media, shared pictures and ignored the gnawing feeling of not writing. I need to switch it around.
Writing has to come first.
What does it all mean? I am not abandoning Facebook, Twitter, et at, forever. I am just restructuring my energy use. It is a difficult choice, but I have books that need to be written and they are not getting done. I have blogs, stories and other projects that are not getting done.
Please be patient with me as I work around this issue. I need time right now. While writing is one of the major factors—my health comes into play. Both in the energy I have, and in the healing I need to do. The night in August left a bigger hole in me than I thought. I realize somewhere that night, I lost hope. I think a part of me died, and I am looking to reclaim it. I know my trust (in medical care) was destroyed. The monster of the Three Little Words is haunting my steps day and night as new “solutions” are offered. Solutions that will not make it better.
And it scares me. I have always been able to write, and I hope focusing back on my writing completely, will let me save myself. I feel a little like a character in a show. It’s dark, there are monsters and sadly no 1939 Ford, 1967 Impala or sailing ship with a dragon companion are here to chase the monsters. I know they will be, I just need to find them again.