Finding Forty; Day 402; Blood Work

The doctor's office called with the results of my blood work.  Everything was fine.   How incredibly warped is it that I was slightly disappointed to hear that?  

Trust me, I'm not looking for something horrible or life threatening, but low iron counts or an under active thyroid, well, those were things I could have jumped on board with.

At least I would have had answers for why I feel so sluggish and exhausted all the time.

I recall, in the midst of the affair and it's aftermath, sort of wishing for the same thing.   I know that A wished that I could have been diagnosed with a personality disorder or something,  so that we could pin the blame for my erratic and unusual behavior on that.

In both cases, turns out, it's just me.

The same empathetic, caring, nurturing woman who cries at Hallmark commercials and dedicated her professional life to helping children is the same one who cheated on her husband and lied to the innocent faces of her friends and family.

The same healthy, vibrant,  body who birthed three boys naturally and has run a marathon and six half marathons can barely move these days without heaving and huffing and wanting to curl in bed for hours at a time.

There is no diagnosis or explanation for either that allows me to remove the spotlight from myself and my own actions.

But I'm not complaining.  I realize things won't always be this way.   Every day I try to do something to help myself physically.

I was diagnosed with vertigo and have my first appointment with a physical therapist on Monday.   Hopefully that will help improve my situation so I can move about again without fear of falling.

My knee is injured, but if one more week of therapy doesn't help then I will have minor surgery and move forward.

In many ways I miss the old me.   The nice one who enjoyed working out.   The happy one who liked to move her body.

In time, in time.  This I know.