Emotional vs. Intellectual

I feel jittery and compelled to get stuff done, even though I know that I'm pushing my limits.  Its almost an obsessive compulsive desire to get certain things done before I can't do them anymore.  I think in the back of my head, that is the fear I have niggling around.  That I'm going to become disabled.  Not being able to work, to provide for myself is a HUGE fear.

I don't think that I've actually acknowledged this.  What would I be if I couldn't work?  That's the rub, I'd still be me. Not more, not less, just with a different set of circumstances.  This is an intellectual realization that has to filter down to my emotional self.

That is really what this is boiling down to.  The reconciliation between my intellectual and emotional side about this disease.  Intellectually I know that ways exist to manage it and cope.  Emotionally, I want to curl up in a corner with my fingers in my ears singing lalalalalala.

I don't want to be sick.  I have shades of my father's illness, which I know has no comparison, who died from his disease.  I feel resentful that my body has crapped out on me.  A part of me is very angry.  And I have no one to blame.  That is the very essence of frustration.

So, I write.  I put form to my fears, dreams, hopes, and expectations.  Hoping this will clear out the stuff that will stymie me so that I can get on with my fight.

Ultimately, I intend to go down swinging.  Having lived a full life.  With lupus as a footnote, not having defined my life.