Sick to my stomach
My sister tells me to stop saying “It makes me sick” because she’s afraid “it” really will make me sick.
Once upon a time, “It makes me sick” was a kind of heart-sickness, an expression.
The first time I realized that I really felt physically sick because of my marriage problems was in 2002. My boys and I were living with my grandmother while Will retrained for re-entry to active duty.
I kept a purple journal then, and it is filled with pictures. A few of them are pictures of me, of what’s going on inside of me. And in those pictures, there’s a big knotty ball drawn in my chest cavity. Sometimes the ball starts at my throat and extends to my naval, and sometimes there are two separate “balls” – one over my heart and one over my stomach.
At the time, I labled these knotty balls “Depression”. (Hee hee – “knotty balls” – sounds funny)
Now, my cholesterol levels are over 300 (taking vytorin though), I have panic attacks, and I’m “obese” on the BMI scales. My heartsickness is setting the stage for another form of attack – a heart attack.
I can and will unravel those damn heartsick, disease-causing balls. I’m sure of it. But they and the physical disease they’re causing are already here.
Depression does make you physically sick, and abuse causes depression. How you feel mentally and emotionally will have effects on your body over time. My thoughts and emotions are telling my body to gear up to kill me. My spirit is (was, I hope) dying. And without my spirit, there’s no reason for my body to be here at all.
You’ve been warned.
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