The pressure on my gut was unmistakeable. It was the push of womanhood that wakes me up from a dead sleep every 21-28 days to let me know that I have no biological connection to a child.

I stumbled to the bathroom, cleaned myself off and prepared for my “gift.” But as usual, I was overwhelmed by sadness. Tears uncontrollably began to roll down my face. I wadded up toilet tissue and repeatedly dabbed my eyes until they were dry.

I laid back down and watched the clock change from 5:59 to 6:45 before I drifted back off to sleep. When I woke up at 9:15 the sun was shining but I was still feeling low.

It’s Saturday. I have to get up, I thought.

I slowly dragged myself to the shower. Afterwards, I got dressed and prepared to leave the house. On glance at the clock and I discovered I was too late to make it to my monthly Meals On Wheels volunteer opportunity.

I will miss my older clients today but I have to take care of me, I thought. I need to cheer up.

I looked up movie times. I learned that Jumanji was playing a 3:30. I decided I’d take myself out.

I relaxed back into the recliner, grabbed my popcorn and prepared to laugh away my pain.

Two hours later, I emerged feeling a little lighter, less depressed and not confident that my decision not to stay home and mope was for the best.

Read days 1-33: https://nikabeamon.com

#writing #blogger #spoonie #autoimmunedisease #invisibleillness #chronicillness #chronicpain #igg4 #disability #2018 #joythroughthepain #backpain #infertility #depression #selflove