the health of a zombie.

This past week bore a lot of bad news for me.  I guess something had to counter my hockey team winning Nationals?  Which I’ll never forget, despite nearly getting my lights knocked out in Game 3 and suffering the consequences of that hit the rest of the weekend.  But it was a series of health concerns that were “resolved” afterwards that brought me down.  “Resolved” because they know what’s wrong, but in quotes because the problems either can’t be resolved yet or are never going to be resolved.


I guess the saddest part about the news (despite having to put off a surgery to afford it) is that I’ve been diagnosed with Meniere’s Disease.  In reality, I should realize that my condition could be so much worse.  The problem with my hearing loss COULD be a tumor.  Instead, it’s just excess brain fluids on one side of my head.  But I can no longer enjoy music the same, hear people when they whisper, be around high pitches without getting an instant migraine, or make turns in dance class without seriously struggling to stay on my feet.  Yep, the imbalance issue is probably the hardest to overcome.  And the looming threat that my condition could worsen.  Without any way to cure it.


It’s funny how I used to use My Fitness Pal to obsessively check my vitamin levels, calorie input versus output, etc.  It felt so stressful at the time but I realize now it was a different kind of stress.  It was self-induced and it was stress I placed on myself for self-improvement.


Now it just feels like survival stress.


I can no longer indulge in cheese and not read labels.  I know I would have restricted cheese in the past by choice, read labels by choice even, but now that choice is taken away – if I want to keep my hearing levels up.  Snacking on my box of Trefoil cookies, I have to keep a constant tally on a sheet of paper every time I pull one out so I can count how many milligrams of sodium I ate and record it on my app.


Yeah, it’s not diabetes.  It’s not allergies.  It’s not a lot of things.  But after being so happy this weekend and seeing things taper off so rapidly – back into a similar funk to where I was before – it kind of makes me slump more than I’d expect.


Especially when my work hours are longer than usual.  And my apartment, which I’ve hardly seen in the last two months, is messy and full of dirty laundry that I just haven’t been around to take care of.  Or I come home and pass out.


It’s so hard to feel motivated right now.  But it’s scary when I get emotionless and zombie-like.  That happened in February.  I spaced out.  I was spaced out most of March, too.  Then, yesterday, I was the last person in the office and I just started bawling at my computer screen.  For no reason.  And again while driving.  That’s about the third time this week I started crying while driving.  It’s like I can’t find the time alone to do it anywhere else.  (And it’s kind of a dangerous, blinding habit…which requires sunglasses to hide the shame if a passerby looks over and sees loony me.)


So, boohoo, I can’t eat cheese.  Or loads of sauerkraut.  And I have a national title.  My life is sooo hard, right?


On the upswing, I bought a planner and I’m trying to crack down on myself.  It’s time to get things in order.


I’m excited for my debut with the Heather Belles, a violin piece I was asked to play with a group, and the possibility that I will begin volunteering with the Cleveland Clinic soon.  Not to mention, I’m joining a gym.  WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?  I swore to never…


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