Elizabeth,
My sisters here have wisdom to spare; heed their suggestions. Find ways to relax, to let go, to just be. Do seek outside help when you feel you need it. Try to not worry too much ahead of time ("sufficient to each day is the trouble thereof").
You've gone through major transitions and changes that are very upsetting (in the neutral sense of the word); your boat has been rocked, lately, and the world may look different to you now. All this added to the fact that you're suffering also from physical ailments is apt to shake you up and shake you down. Just remember that life itself doesn't come with an instruction manual; all of us, without exception, are children in this regard... and we're all flying by the seat of our pants. Sure, we may experience terror and high anxiety and the soul-requiem of depression, but we need also to welcome joy and wonder when they come looking for us.
I'm not sure if this applies in your case or not (and feel free to tell me I'm full of crapola if it doesn't!), but here's a little parable I always found enjoyable and that has helped me much, ever since I first read it, in Richard Bach's Illusions. There once lived a community of small creatures firmly nestled in the bed of a powerfully flowing and rushing creek. Now these creatures were comfortable in their existence and they enjoyed their life, difficult though it may be. In fact, it was all they'd ever known, this hard task of clinging each to their own pebble, so as not to be swept away by the merciless current. They saw it as a matter of course that such clinging is what life is, after all. Sometimes, sluggishly, and with much effort, one of these creatures would succeed in moving from one pebble to the next, braving the current, risking life and limb in order to do so. Well, one day, one of these creatures just became tired, too tired, really, to continue holding on for dear life to its pebble. Its neighbours saw this and tried to do what they could to reach out and help this poor one. But, for fear of letting go of their own pebble, they could do nothing. Soon, this tired one, at the end of its strength, finally just let go with an anguished wail. It got swept away by the current, as the others could do nothing but watch in horror and sorrow. Soon, though, our "traveller" realized that, not only was it not dying, but it was actually regaining some of its lost strength as it let its arms spread out in the fast-moving waters. Moreover, looking down, it saw things it never could've believed existed; its world was much more varied, wonderful, beautiful, and enchanting than it had ever thought possible. This, even though it shared the waters with the occasional predator. Its fellows, still clinging to their pebbles, looked up and saw this traveller and marvelled. "How could this be, that one such as we are can soar in such a fashion and not perish?" they asked themselves. They were puzzled and bewildered by this traveller that so much looked like themselves. "Just... let... go...," the soaring one would tell them, as it flew by overhead, "I'll... meet... you... in... the... ocean." But they all nevertheless continued to cling to their pebbles. They were afraid to relinquish their grip; who knew what dark dangers the waters held? what dark dangers the ocean? Soon, those nestled in the creek bed began to make stories around the one who flew, in order to always remember this most amazing occurence. Soon, too, those stories were so embellished that not a one of those creatures could any longer recognize in the "traveller" something akin to themselves or anything also in their power to imitate. They clung to their pebbles. And life went on.
Elizabeth, you (and I and all of us, here) can, in fact, be like that soaring one. We just have to let go, and let ourselves be. Yes, even in the face of the threat posed by the "predators" we share these waters with. I know you're tired, girl; I know you're in chronic pain; I know you're "wobbly" on your legs. Perhaps, in your most difficult times, just trusting that the universe that gave you birth will also cradle you in its warm waters whenever you're tired may help. Well, that, and the support of the fine souls on this forum, too.
I never tire of pointing this out: in its 15-billion year history, the cosmos has never before produced such a one as you (or as me or as each and every one of us); you are an absolutely unique instance of what the universe is capable of (along with each star, each tree, each pebble). Always remember that. Always cherish yourself, if only for that reason, at first. You matter. You matter to me, to us. Make sure you matter to yourself, too.
Well, seems like I've gone on one of my wilder tangents again. Sorry. I feel full of love this morning--not sure why. I just do.
Take care of yourself, Elizabeth. Please.
Love,
CJ
)
... I *Know* what you need 
