The “Why me?” question

One of the stages that I went through at the beginning of my health problems (and admittedly still go through occasionally),  was the  “why me” stage. I will be honest and say, this was not my best stage. My poor husband listen to my whining and crying day in and day out because unfortunately, it was not a stage I passed through quickly.  As my friends were having babies and running marathons while nine months pregnant (seriously, so annoying) I was so sick I could barely get out of bed. Dear Bart asked me why I was jealous of people having babies, did I want one? The answer was NO, but I wanted to option to have one. I also wanted the option to run a marathon while pregnant and then run another marathon one month after the baby was born.  I wanted the option to travel the world, to get my Phd, to have an awesome career, and those options had been taken away from me.  I was POed that while “everyone” I knew was accomlishing something, I was a 27 year old with a body of an 80 year old.

Why me? For weeks I  wallowed in my own self pity. In the end it was probably good for me to wallow a little bit, I mean life as I knew it would most likely not be the same ever again, but I soon realized I really had nothing to complain about. Sure there are lots of people out there whose lives are just perfect and everything goes as planned and they accomplish all these great and wonderful things, but more often than not those people are the exception. As I spent more and more time on the internet I learned that I was lucky. Lucky that I got a diagnoses, lucky that I wasn’t fully incapacitated by my illness, lucky I found a doctor who would treat me that would take insurance, lucky I have supportive friends and family etc. etc. etc.

Still it took me a while to give up on asking the “why me?” question. Just because other people’s lives suck, why did mine have to? Honestly, I think there is no good logical answer to that, because as my Dad always said when he was trying to annoy me during my teenage years, life isn’t fair.  Here’s where my faith came in even though faith is difficult for me. I believe there is a purpose for everything, even when I can’t see the purpose. When I was a senior in high school and my Dad announced we were moving 2,000 miles south, I told him he was ruining my life and I kept telling him that for the next year (I really made him suffer, I have since apologized for my awful behavior).  Ten years later I have seen the purpose for that move. Because of the move I went to college at Texas A&M which I absolutely loved. Because of the move I met my husband (who I also love). There was definitely a purpose for that move, even though at the time it “ruined my life.”

The purpose for me feeling like crap all the time? I have no idea, but I do believe that one day I will be able to look back and see “why me?”

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