This Old House Just Ain’t What it Used to Be…

While I know I have written about this before somewhere, I might as well get it down here. Over a short time span I find my body seeming to be breaking down. This is not in an easily detectable case, though. Outwardly I look fine. I get good results on my yearly physicals. Even though I have high cholesterol in my genetics, I seem to keep it in the good cholesterol category. I have always weighed inside what is considered proper for my age and height. Though not particularly active, I’ve always had good muscle.

So, how in the world is my body breaking down?

With each passing year “little things” have begun developing. In time I have found myself limited greatly in what I am able to do. Again… in just a handful of years…

I have gone from being able to handle all my chores for the house (Kitchen counters, dishes, laundry, vacuuming, dusting) including ones for my own room to mainly just being able to keep up with the dishes and the laundry, forget about my own room.

In my free time I would read books of decent length, write stories and thoughts, research things of interest, listen to all kinds of music, watch shows and so forth with no problems. I can no longer handle books from 400-500 pages, much less around 100. I am too tired in one way or another write much or even go through to read and edit things I’ve already written. Heaven forbid I try HTML crunching or researching. Music is too much for me now and I only listen to a song on my computer once in a strawberry moon. I still watch TV shows with my mother, but they can be more taxing on my mind and body than even before.

All of these things fall in the realms of fatigue and the inability to concentrate due to fatigue. I have always been low energy. My primary physician sees no problems with me and says some people just have less energy than others. Though my father has always blamed it on not being active, I know that is bull. I’ve had plenty of instances in my life where I was incredibly active, but no matter how many miles I walked, how many hills I climbed, how much sweat I produced… my metabolism seemed unchanged. I’d take a shower, eat and often go to bed soon after. My mother has witnessed this and agrees with me. Activity isn’t the problem.

Again, over time, this weakness seems to become worse and worse. The first major occurrence was back when I had become so weak I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to leave my bed or even have the power to call out to my parents for help. Since that episode, we’ve learned I cannot let my weight drop below a certain level. To try to boost my energy my mom has me take a B vitamin every day and I have a protein shake every morning. Despite I cannot handle eating meat well, I too have made effort to add more protein to my diet by eating bean burgers or peanut butter sandwiches on bread that has added protein in it. In spite of this, the battle is still difficult and our attempts seem flimsy at best.

The recent appearance of monthly headaches has made getting things done from chores to even pastimes all the more difficult. Though I take magnesium to minimize them to a dull ache, I am still left rather helpless brain-wise because should I try to concentrate for too long, I quickly develop headaches.

Because of this combination of growing weakness, lack of energy and the inability to concentrate… I am left rather helpless. I have simple responsibilities I can no longer keep up with. I have many pastimes I would like to attend to but either find my body too tired or my mind unable to concentrate.

In this I am left quite helpless. I cannot do things. At times I have thought of trying to force myself, but I know how detrimental to my health that can be. Even when consulting my mother on this, she agrees it would do me more harm than good.

In this, I often can only sleep. I sleep due to the weakness. I sleep due to the headaches. I sleep due to the inability to concentrate. In turn, I find myself sleeping an troublesome amount. I will not take it for granted. I will never take sleep for granted.

Nevertheless, as I told my mother, it is troubling. It is worrisome to find myself in such a helpless state. It is annoying that I cannot get things done be they responsibilities to mere pastimes. It makes the possible future come off as very bleak and pathetic… because this tiredness keeps getting worse with each passing year. This trouble with concentrating gets worse every year. I am losing so much.

Often times before, when I’d find myself sleeping copious amounts, I’d worry that perhaps it wasn’t a physical condition and I was just becoming lazy. Logic and discussions with my mother help assure me this is physical and not due to becoming a sloth. Nevertheless, though I know this… I have but one person in the world who understands and knows enough that she believes me.

I cannot see anyone else in my family believing this. My father, though he would be my greatest protector and advocate at heart, he lives in a world full of denial when it comes to me. My eldest brother, and very likely his wife, see me as being too sheltered and babied by our parents. I know he is wrong on this though, because he never witnessed all the trials that ultimately determined that I cannot follow the majority standard. The same goes with my sister, but she’s always viewed me in such a way and always will. I’m not so sure about my other brother, but even if he were to think I’m just being lazy and not putting in enough effort… I believe he keeps his mouth shut due to knowing his own faults.

Then… there is just the world. I cannot follow the majority rule. The standard set by how most people function is one that I cannot fulfill. Looking at the standard, I also notice… I seem to be breaking down at an accelerated rate. People cannot see this, however. I look well. These troubles do not show upon merely looking at me. If my outward health could reflect my inward, though… I’m sure I’d look worn, fragile and just… helpless.

Alas, the outward appearance rarely ever shows the content within. Other than my mother… I’m pretty sure no one would believe my plight. The well-meaning would say things like my dad, my psychiatrist… even my best friend. They see potential, they believe if I just try more… I’ve tried all my life. I’ve pushed myself beyond my limits trying and in turn have almost always found no results or hurt and breakdowns. The rest of the world… they would just view me like my eldest brother and my sister.


Well, my head is cloudy and as it goes… just composing this has tired me. Again, I must sigh.