I don't want to die, but I don't want to live like either.
I'm struggling real bad. I've been struggling with PPMS for half my life (diagnosed at 25, turning 50 this year). At the beginning I had hope, it was manageable, I still managed to live and experience life. I felt alive. I was happy. I stayed active, I exercised. I ate healthy. I was optimistic. I got married. I raised two kids. I travelled. I wrote. I laughed. I followed my dreams. I painted. I created and maintained a garden, a home. I found ways to keep doing the things I love to do. If I got worse, I pivoted and found ways to adapt. I smiled so much I now have permanent laugh lines on my face. (Some call it wrinkles). I lived. I had a good life.
But now, not so much. During all this time I lost my short term memory, I lost my job, I lost my ability to learn to play the piano and guitar, to study sign language, I lost my ability to run, to jog, to bike, to drive, to walk, to stand. I've lost my ability to cook, to garden, to paint, to take pictures, to wash my hair, to dress myself, to bathe, to make jewelry, to do jigsaw puzzles, to properly hold utensils, to control my emotions, to control my bladder, to clean and organize, I can't even open my mail, jars, or a box of cereal or hold a book. I can't focus or have a normal conversation, I struggle to breathe and swallow at times.
I feel empty now. I feel done.
I've talked to psychologist, doctors, life coaches, friends, family, spiritual gurus, support groups. And yet I still feel done.
No bucket list items, no desires, no goals, no dreams, no aspirations. I'm just tired.
I find relief when I meditate, when I look up at the sky and dream of floating away, of becoming wind.
I feel like my body is a shell, and I am a seed. I need to be planted so I can grow again.
Life is supposed to have obstacles and struggles.
Just like the water in a river or stream moving over rocks.
It comes across obstacles but keeps moving.
But at this point in my journey, living feels like I'm trying to go against the current, like I'm trying to move up stream.
The path forward feels like it should lead to the ocean, the vast unknown, death? reincarnation?
Not a hoist on my ceiling, a room filled with medical equipment, nurses, and medication.
Are my feelings wrong? Is life worth living at any cost?
Am I wrong for feeling accomplished, for wanting to stay laying down?
Society encourages us to help those in need. But what about those in need, is it ok for them to say "no thank you, this is what was meant to be"
*Edit
I'm grateful for the support and all the kind words.
I feel less alone and it brings me relief, but it also hurts to know so many are hurting as well. I'm not encouraging anyone to stop fighting, and I don't feel like ending my life. It just feels like the end is nearing, like the light is getting closer and I'm being pulled away it.
I might be deleting, idk.