Chronic Haze: The Sad Truth of Chronic Illnesses

For many years I have felt as if I’m living in a haze. A mere shadow of my former self. Not the woman I once was. And surely not the woman I intended to be at 35. Weak is an understatement. Tired doesn’t even begin to describe the level of exhaustion that I face. I want the old me back.

I want to go back to that vibrant and wild eyed woman who would drop everything for life’s next adventure. The girl that was always in the mood to dance with her kids or a perfect stranger if the timing was right. The girl who loved to spend hours in the kitchen baking treats and cooking extravagant meals.

I have become a zombie. A shell of a human. A remnant of the woman I once was. It is unfair. It is cruel. And it is depressing.

It is going to be a long road of recovery, and I am already fully aware of that. I just know that once I climb this mountain, I am going to find her again. Waiting on the other side. Ready to greet me with a cup of hot tea and a million ideas about what we can do next. She’s in there, she’s waiting.

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