I can't remember the last time I really cried. With everything I've been through in the past two years you'd think I would've cried more but I just decided at some point, crying doesn't serve a purpose. Oh it gives a sense of relief but sometimes it hurts more to cry than not to cry. Sometimes I think if I do cry, I won't stop. I can't let myself go back there. Ever.
From mid-2014 to mid-2015 it seemed to be one crisis after another. I felt like my life was falling apart so I had to go back to my therapist, my mother fell and broke her hip and spent nearly four months in hospitals/rehab, I was sick with the flu three times, mom re-entered the hospital for clots that went undiagnosed in rehab and I took leave from work and lived with her for 8 weeks to help care for her till she regained her independence, my beloved grandmother died (I found her), two friends from high school I'd lived next door to for years died, our next door neighbor we'd known for 35 years died and there were a number of just really shitty things that happened during that time period. It was one thing after another. I just thought it would never end.
I was stressed out. That's an understatement. I was exhausted mentally and physically. I had no energy, my back hurt every day, I worried constantly, I wasn't taking my anxiety med on a regular basis, wasn't eating right, and had little face time with friends. There wasn't much left of me when all was said and done.
The result of all this---I don't cry anymore. Sometimes I don't care. Well, wait...that's not true, I do care, but...I don't spend my waking hours worrying "what if?" What if mom falls again? What if I get sick again? What if someone else dies? What if this? What if that? I spent most of my life trying to put together a plan B, C, D, E and so on so that in case of an emergency I've got t contingency. You know what? It's draining.