I have been struggling with this disease for so long now that it has completely consumed my life. I can't even remember the me I used to be. Sometimes I call a dear cousin and ask to be reminded... "I really was motivated?"..."I really had THAT much energy?"... It seems like that was a different person in a different life. I miss that person. I want to be her again.

I don't know if it's the constant pain, the hormones, or the vicodin, but I have moments where I am an inflexible, intolerant *****. I really do have a DH, because two of our three years of marriage have been for "worse" and he still loves and supports me.

We have a man painting the exterior of our house right now and he irritates me. Oh, he's a really nice, polite, HAPPY guy, but he knocks on the door to use the bathroom a few times a day. The old me would have been generous and friendly. Now, I open the door, still in my pj's many days and I feel both guilty and defensive, like he is thinking: "Some life she has. Must be nice to sit home all day and do nothing." Of course, this is not because of anything he says; rather, it is my own guilt at how inactive and incapacitated I have become. I just want to be alone most days.

I used to dream of having a baby girl and being a stay at home mom. I finally have both of these gifts and I'm sleeping them away. I wish I had milk & cookies ready for my DS every day afterschool... that I went for daily walks with my DD, babyE... that I had a spotlessly clean house and invented fun art projects for the kids... I do have these moments, but they are not nearly as often as I want them to be. Now, about the only thing I do consistently is feed everyone. So many needs aren't being met daily. I have a friend who has constant back pain and has had a slew of health problems. She has six kids and she is always sunny and helpful. She never sleeps in the middle of the day; she just pushes the pain away. I feel like such a failure. When I am not sad about it, I am angry.

When I was 18 my first true love died from leukemia. The last year of his life he became so negative and angry that I couldn't relate. I didn't understand why he was so mean. I'd always heard these stories of selfless martyrs dying gracefully and I didn't get it. My heart aches anew for him as I now can understand what the pain (not to mention loss of hope) did to him.

Tonight, my wonderful, sensitive DS climbed into bed with me as I was putting babyE to bed. It was late, I was irritated, and I just wanted to be alone. I snapped at him and told him to leave. Some mother, huh? A few minutes later, consumed with the realization of how horrible my actions were, I went to his room. (The poor boy is scared about my surgery and instead of reassuring him I had pushed him away!)

"I don't mean to be mean," I told him. "I'm so sorry that I acted that way. Sometimes I hurt so much that I lash out at you and you are the greatest thing that ever happened to me and I love you so much." He cried and crumbled into my arms. I told him to come back to my room and I held him for 20 minutes. I know that I said the right words this time, but I'm so worried that it's the negative actions that will plague him as an adult. I want him to grow up with intact self-esteem. I do things like this and it adds to the tally of self-loathing that this disease has created.

I used to be full of energy and HAPPY and easy-going and CALM. I was giving and generous and funny. I used to be creative and draw and write songs and sing in coffee shops. 100 years ago I would have been one of those women with "female problems" in bed sipping laudanum until my premature death. Even ten years ago, many women with pelvic pain were told it was "in their heads." I need to keep focused on how LUCKY I am that at least I have options. I pray to God that this surgery ends my constant pain and irritability and that I can find the nice me again. She was really special and memorable, and I miss her so very very much. ~Clementine