I probably shouldn't be writing on a day like today. Today I feel particularly cheesed off with what my life has become. However, I think it's important I capture all elements of my 'new life' and not just the times when I want to theorise around the philosophical or pontificate around the medical.
On days like today, where I'm exhausted but cannot sleep or gain no recuperation from what little sleep I achieve, I feel thoroughly sorry for myself and thoroughly angry with the world. I'm glad to say that I've mostly been able to move on from needing to point out how ill I am to everyone but days like today involve me wanting to shout it from the rooftops. Why can't someone help me? Why was I given such a cruel illness where the days and nights are long but I don't have the energy to fill them with anything worthwhile or satisfying? Self-pity is very unattractive but I'd be a liar if I said I didn't experience it from time to time.
My current situation is open-ended. I might make a full recovery, I might make a partial recovery or I might be like this for a long, long time. There is, seemingly, no cure. With most illnesses, the situation is somewhat different. There is either a recovery in sight or an end in sight. A terminal illness means a release is in the distance somewhere. An end to it all. Yes, self-pity also makes me feel like I've been dealt a tougher hand than a terminal cancer patient. I told you self-pity was unattractive.
I will regain a steadier mindset, I know. Maybe tomorrow or soon afterwards. I will be able to once again remind myself that there are plenty of people worse off than me and I will be stoic and accepting. Alas none of that is possible today. Today I just hate everything.