Not gonna lie, I spent pretty much the entire weekend feeling sorry for myself. Crying or pouting. Full out crazytown.
I’ve had asthma since I was 16 and it has NEVER caused me grief. ever.
Until the last 2 years – gradually worse and worse to where I’m at now, at least 1 hour (usually upwards of 3) every damn day where I am wheezy and can’t even move my leg up a stair without feeling out of breath. SO FRUSTRATING. So, so frustrating.
So I spent pretty much every minute thinking about how bad it sucks, how unfair it is, and how tired I am of trying to be healthy when I still can’t walk up the stairs without needing to stop and catch my breath. I’m 38 for Christ’s sake, this is ridiculous.
Today, I woke up happy, driven, and accepting. It is what it is, I just have to keep plugging away and not let it take my happiness away along with my breath. It’s not forever…something has to give and feeling sorry for myself certainly isn’t going to bring a solution any faster.
I finally have a doctor who genuinely cares, a Lung Specialist, and he is on a mission to find the solution, or at the very least, the cause. I love him. LOVE him. (in a totally acceptable married lady way). So, we’ll get there. It’s just going to take time and ruling out one thing at a time.
I have time. And I’m gonna be as full as piss and vinegar as I can be in that time.