Birthday Blues

I've always been a big birthday person. I like the idea of celebrating a person's life and taking the time to recognize them and remind them they are important to you. I also tend to always be the person "giving", always sacrificing and taking care of others, so I really like that my birthday is a time to celebrate "me". Throughout the years, while working a gazillion hours, going to school and taking care of everyone around me, I'd use my birthday as a time to do what I want, take a moment for myself, and also to evaluate how things were going in my life since the year before. I'm usually very hard on myself and it was a good time to say to myself "Gee, look how far you've come since last year".

Unfortunately.... this year just plain sucked. My options suck terribly in the short term and are pretty awful for the long term. My roommate and I are having to move because the big corporate apartments we live in jacked up our rent a ton and I can't afford it anymore. I made the move from Boston to Colorado last year on my birthday, so I was moving last year as well and didn't get to celebrate at all. I had no choice in the scheduling, and now I'm doing it again. I've been stressing and working a ton of hours trying to find an apartment that's worth moving to and saves enough money to pay for the move. My roommate works full time, which means it's all falling on me (and I feel terribly guilty about my financial part). My last move across the country was horrendous and I'm definitely not ready to move again. My home is all I have - no family, no security, nothing. Just my collection of junk (and a furbaby) that makes me feel safe.

My health has gone downhill terribly since last year and my hopes of making Colorado a safe, happy place to accept my prognosis has been a disaster. My health spiraled so far down from this move, I'm barely getting it stabilized and my diseases are still progressing. I haven't made any friends here since I moved, except one. I have her and my roommate. That's it. Also, all my friendships from back in Boston have been severely strained by the move. I hate what distance does to friendships. And on top of that, my family has done some rotten things over the past year as well and I'm trying hard to stay away from people who are out to hurt me, so I've actually lost more people than I've gained this year.

And speaking of gaining... despite having terrible GI problems which have destroyed me with nausea and vomiting, I've gained weight. I'm not really sure how, neither are my doctors. I've had several procedures, but they have no clue. I'm pushing myself very hard to be more "active" and all it means is I'm in more pain, more often.

I know this entry is so negative and awful, but it is truly how I feel. I said I wanted to blog more honestly, just to get it out there. It's harder than I thought to be real. Those happy, fully motivating blogs are so much better to read, hell, so much better to write. I'm just not there. I'm trying. I'm putting one foot in front of the other. I don't have any other options with medical treatment and I'm feeling the full effects of my disease progressing. This creates such a weight on my soul and drain on my life, it's hard to even pretend to be normal. I'll be 29 on the 27th and as much as I'd like to find any kind of silver-lining to my current situation, the fear I won't make it to 30, at least not a worthwhile 30 is overwhelming.