A person who lacks the courage to do or endure dangerous or unpleasant things.
Excessively afraid of danger or pain.
noun. dastard – recreant – funk – poltroon – craven
adjective. craven – cowardly – recreant – chicken-hearted – timid
Yes I said it. I have been struggling a lot lately. Friday I saw my GP who I adore. He never makes me feel crazy and validates my symptoms. When he looked at the notes from my last Rheumy visit, he was shocked to see that my rheumy was suggesting cymbalta and noted depression.
Here are the facts:
I am fed up with living like this and not having any answers.
I was crying during that visit.
He suggested I take cymbalta and when I refused, he seemed done with me.
I adore my Rheumatologist.
I am sad, mad, frustrated but certainly not clinically depressed.
I have had some time to think about it and I think I have fallen into this space of knowing what is around the corner and I just want to take my ball and go home. I am a coward because I have stopped doing things that I enjoy because there is always a price to pay. I simply don’t have the “funds” to pay that price. I have been at this for 6 years, researched, documented, making lists and checking them twice, connecting dots. I am no longer the fearless. I am no longer the tenacious person I used to be. I am a coward.
I think the real courage is going out and doing activities and functions. Moving forward in spite of your pain and inabilities. Real courage is knowing you are going to hurt, be mind-numbingly fatigued, and possibly non-functioning for days after but doing it anyways. I haven’t had that courage for a while now. Frankly, I am a little sick of myself right now.
I am a realist and have never used excuses, I just say it like it is. ‘No’ is not an uncomfortable word for me. But, why do I say no to things? Because I know that what follows is pain and sadness. That makes me a coward. I have made numerous life changes to make my life easier from mobility issues to only going out certain times of the day, only going to one store instead of 3, insuring I have things around me that make me more comfortable, but, it’s not enough.
Hell, right now, as I read this, I feel like I am complaining. I guess its another stage of chronic illness. I don’t like this stage. I am angry at this stage. I am sad at this stage. I am not depressed. I am a coward. I have not read anywhere in any literature of any pill that gives you courage. Until then, I keep plugging way and hope that this stage doesn’t last long.