I am conflicted about how I handle my pain from day to day. I pat myself on the back on the days I don’t utter a complaint (out loud), but I also inwardly cringe. Am I setting a bad example by not being “open” about my pain?
On the days where I literally cannot hold it in, when the tears flow over every little thing, when my temper grows short as the pain eats away at it, when I feel as if I wear my pain like a neon sign for all to see, I question myself then too. Am I now being too open about my struggles? Do people think of me as weak and incapable? Am I weak and incapable?
There are some days when I wake up and wonder how on earth I’m going to get through it. When I do, when the kids are in bed and the house is quiet, I am almost stunned.
It feels as though there is a large marble is fused to my heel, and no matter how I try to disperse my weight – walking is painful and hard.
It’s incredibly uncomfortable, and a lot of the time, it’s damn near unbearable. The only reason I’ve been able to do the simple yet tedious and painful tasks I do each day is because of the boys. If I don’t do them, who will? Matt’s busy working, providing food and a roof over our heads. He certainly cannot afford to take time off – especially when it’s not for a surgery. He helps me an unmeasurable amount when he is home, but those hours that he isn’t drag on and on.
I’m enjoying my time with my boys, don’t get me wrong – I really am. I just wish I could enjoy it more, play more…you know?
Tomorrow, I’m mailing that MRI CD to my specialist in TO and I hope that they are able to give me some clue as to what the plan is by sometime next week.
In the mean time, I’m going to try not to beat myself up too much over what I’m not doing, or what I am doing or how I’m reacting to this. I’m only human. I don’t think there is a right way to “handle” this kind of thing. Or if there is, I’m certainly unaware of it.
And to cap off this post, here’s another gorgeous photo of Archer napping — because this post needs a little more peace & beauty…