It has been a bad week

Because of my health, I took some time off from blogging last week for the first time in almost a year. And you know what? It felt weird. I lost my confidante, my journal and my catharsis. I felt alone. Even more so now.

This weekend, as you can see in this photo, my friend Jason, who I met in basic training, got married on beautiful Vancouver Island. I was honoured to be invited, touched to watch him make his vows, and emotional over every aspect of the ceremony. When I think of it, we've supported each other through such an incredibly difficult time in our lives, and I know that somehow, we managed to laugh our way through it. We were babies then! Now, here we are in this photo from Saturday.

But there's nothing quite like someone else's wedding to make you reflect on your own life. I sat and watched the photo montage of Jason and his wife's smiling faces and thought how happy they looked and how great it was that they were together permanently, since Jason recently returned from a year in Afghanistan. And then I thought of Mark and this insane distance between us. I saw Jason's family and their plastered smiles and suddenly I missed my own. Perhaps these thoughts were responsible for the majority of my tears.

Throughout the wedding night, I tried half-heartedly to dance to a few songs but my body wouldn't listen. During an attempted spin, I even fell (my balance has been affectly badly by my thyroid and heart issues) and I scurried of quickly to cry in the bathroom, whereas just a few months ago, I would have laughed about it and just kept on busting my moves. What's happening to my body? Who does it belong to? I crawled into bed that night, pulled the covers up to my chin, then woke the next morning and could hardly get out of bed. It was as though my legs just refused to cooperate. Yes, at 26, I could hardly will my body into action, and it felt sad. And I let myself be sad about it. I think I've earned that much.

Now, I'm trying to find a delicate way to say what I experienced last night, but I'm not sure there is one, so I'll just come right out with it. Because my heart beats so quickly because of my thyroid, I drink water like you wouldn't believe. I drink about five or six times more than usual, so to say that I pee a lot would be a serious understatement. So, in a rush to get to the bathroom after the ferry ride and then the drive home, I yanked off my pants and sighed with relief that I had made it. But when I went to stand up, I couldn't. I tried again. Still no dice. When I heaved myself up on the third attempt, my legs slipped out from underneath me and I cracked the back of my head on my countertop and bled, a lot. I'm all stitched up but the throbbing remains. As with most head injuries, I should have been woken up by a family member or a friend every few hours during the night but I have no one. It was a quick reminder that I am sick, weak and relatively helpless.

My birthday is July 5th and although I'll be spending it with friends from the Island, I keep returning home from those trips and end up feeling more alone than ever. My inability to do that active things we all used to do together is a reminder of my illness. When they go for a hike, I sit in the car. When they stroll the streets shopping, I sit and drink a litre of water and try to catch my breath.

Today, for the first time, I questioned if I made the right decision to move to Vancouver, and to leave behind all the people I love when I'm dealing with these monumental health problems. I called and then listened to the voice of my mom, who told me to call anytime and have a good cry, and I missed everyone more than ever. I missed my fiance, my parents, my friends, my family. I miss home.

Although I should force myself to snap out of it, I can`t help but feel like a shell of myself--as though I'm watching a movie that stars someone who looks like me, but isn't really me. I'm sick and feeling sorry for myself. And it's not a good position to be in.

Kelly