Useless Ramblings

The existential crises I've been facing lately are all about what I DO. Or what's been taken away. I've lost art (even if it's temporarily), I've lost dancing, I've lost working, driving.

But I've not lost ME.

It's something I need to remind myself of a lot. I am a force in and of myself, without having to DO a damn thing. I have the heart and soul of a fighter, a warrior, a Valkyrie. Everything is set against me, trying to stop me? It's only stopping activities. It's stopping things. It's not stopping ME.

Keep trying, pain. Keep trying, disability. Some days I'll feel like you're winning. But those are just small little battles, little skirmishes where you look to be the victor. In the long run, the war is mine. I own this battlefield and I'll never let you forget that again.

This is my last week of physical therapy. I have a check-up on Friday to sort of test my progress but I'll probably ask for a range of motion test sometime this week with the folks in the physical therapy section of things, since the doctor might not do that. I know a couple of weeks ago they said it was already improving. And the pain has lessened immensely, while my upper back has gotten a lot stronger (which has done wonders for my posture as well)

I've learned so much. How to use muscles correctly, how to properly stretch and work them, even some tips on how to handle my hips' scar tissue pain (which, since it was unrelated to the accident, they didn't need to do for me but wanted to)

I might ask them on Friday to check my insurance, see if I can be covered to come back at LEAST once a month just to keep learning, keep growing, keep shaping myself like a sculpture. I can see a difference in the mirror. I can feel the difference, and not just physically. There's a change in my demeanor, and I'm not the only one noticing it. I'm more confident, I'm less stressed. I mean, I'm still stressed, but... it's not nearly so bad.

Skipping two appointments last week to spend some time in Houston with the boyfriend may not look smart from the outside, but that was necessary too. I needed a change of scenery, and a few days of nothing but peace and a lack of worry. I didn't have my scanner and wacom pen within eyesight, mocking me daily. I didn't have unfinished work looming over my head. Boyfriend happily paid for things this time around (whereas I normally grab the check before he can get to it when we go out to eat)

There was a noticeable difference when I got home. Less tense, less angry, less... everything negative. I'm still tired. Well, that might not be related to much of anything, I started shark week like the DAY I left Houston. So this last week of PT I'm playing in hard mode. ;)

Will bought me some simple headphones so I'm bringing the ipad with me to PT to listen to music while I do the cardio part in the beginning. I know myself... get the right music going and I will work up a sweat and have my heartrate right where they want it in no time xD

Maybe once I get some better income I can get a bathing suit that fits and come back to try their aquatic exercises too, to get more of the legs and hips moving.

I don't know. This whole experience may have started out shitty. I mean, who WANTS a car accident? But... it's changing how I look at myself. How I look at my body. Slowly I'm beginning to see my body as mine a little better. It's become such a separate entity in my mind that I was beginning to blame it, hate it, see it as an enemy. I always referred to my body and pain as something I was fighting all the time. Which worked for coping for a while, but... I need to work on not doing it as much. Because it's part of me, and something I need to relearn how to love and work on instead of hating and fighting.

I'm already excited for October. On the 1st is my anniversary, also the second-to-last PT appointment, and Will and I have reservations to a lovely restaurant in Denton. I wish to hell I had some spending money so I could grab a nice dress at a thrift store for the occasion. It's not a huge anniversary or anything, but it's been a while since he and I really celebrated it beyond a small gift or card or something.

<3 A lot of crappy stuff has gone down this month. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" is usually bullshit, but this time... this time it's been true.

Another day sleeping in too late. But honestly after the DOOM-PAIN I brought on myself that slowed me down so much yesterday, I probably needed the sleep. I do feel a LOT better now. So I feel a little guilty and panicky for sleeping so much, but... if that's the price to pay for a healthier happier body then I guess I'm okay with it. Mostly.

PSA: Kids, sometimes you will say something to me. Something innocent, something that is not meant to hurt me. Please know that I KNOW you do not mean this. Know that I probably won't be angry that you said it. But sometimes your foot just ends up in your mouth. It doesn't mean we're suddenly not friends. It's just that, every so often, a topic is a sore one. If you talk to me about your walking-intensive vacations, your dancing, your exercising... every so often, especially if I'm having a rough pain day, it will hurt to hear. I will struggle with the loss and the pain and the jealousy and I might get upset. Not always. For the most part I'm pretty good about not hearing details about my loved ones' lives and making it all about me, me, me. It's just on the hard days, in the rougher moments. Moments where I'd kill to go on that vacation, where I miss dancing, the times I'd give anything to be able to bitch about how rough my two mile run was that day.

I'm not asking you to stop talking about your lives. Just know that sometimes this will be my reaction. I'm not angry, just... very broken. If it's a problem and I want the subject to be changed, I'll ask or I'll remove myself from the conversation. You're not actively the one hurting me, it isn't your fault, and it isn't about you. I just don't always handle the pain very well and for that I'm sorry.

Carry on.

I can barely move I'm in so much pain. We're having people over tonight. Will's aware my pain levels and is insistent that I ask him for anything I need. So... it should be fine. If things get too bad I'll go hide in the bedroom. Will has already given me a drink and some dark chocolate. Yeeeah. Gonna marry that dude so hard... right in the face.

This whole "in a fuckton of pain" thing really got to my head today.

I hurt myself last night. Not on purpose, not that kind of "hurt myself", nothing intentional. We were sitting and playing Pathfinder. I was in the comfiest chair. The chair helped. But the chair was also very close to the chairs on either side so every time I had to get up to use the bathroom I had to pull some fucking acrobatic shit just to get free. This involved some hip twisting... and as careful and deliberate as I was, I still managed to twist wrong and ended up hurting myself pretty fucking badly.

This was about three hours before the end of the game. I managed to focus enough to get through it, though a couple of times I had trouble adding numbers or remembering when it was my turn in combat. For the most part I'm pretty sure no one but Will noticed (except one person making a snarky comment about me getting my numbers wrong - he meant it playfully and I wasn't upset at him but it did make me feel a bit awkward for a while)

We ended around 10, the ride home was long and quiet. I took painkillers as soon as I got home (had forgotten to bring them with me - honestly didn't think it'd even be a problem) and crashed hard. Woke up around 2am when Will came to bed. The pain was... dizzying. I remember checking my phone and messaging for a bit before falling asleep on the couch. I woke up several times more throughout the night. I didn't want to take a second painkiller.

Woke up fully around... I don't know, eight or nine. I did okay for a bit. I don't remember much about this morning, really. The pain stayed consistently bad. A fellow local chronic pain person on FB mentioned that the weather might be a problem but that the pressure SHOULD change by tonight and hopefully relieve some of it.

My mood was pretty awful. I was hungry but unable to get up and make anything. The simple solution would be "ask Will or Roq for help", but I just... I got tired. I got exhausted. I'm so... so fucking sick of needing help with almost every aspect of my life. Yes this is a pride thing, in part, but it's also just craving very basic levels of independence and I don't think I'm being absurd or irrational in wishing I had these simple capabilities. Things like, I don't know, "being able to fucking feed myself", or other things like "getting myself to the goddamn store to buy milk instead of needing some one else to do it", or "drive myself to a doctor's appointment for once instead of begging every fucking time for help" or "pay for a meal for once instead of needing some one to pick up the fucking tab because you barely make enough money to pay the bills much less buy anything else because you can't have a normal fucking job".

I'm just tired. It's easy for people to smile and say, "But people love you! Just ask for help, they'll help!" ... I know they will. But I'm tired of HAVING to ask. And yes I'm also paranoid that their patience will run out. That eventually Will's going to wake up one day in a year or five or twenty and say, "I'm done, I am fucking sick of taking care of you, you offer nothing in return and I'm drained and I can't handle it anymore" and leave. It's not that I actively think he'll do this, or expect it to happen, but I still worry. Because I feel in my heart that it's true - that he has to take care of me and that there's a huge lack of balance in this relationship and eventually it'll destroy him, and us.

I don't know. It's not always so bad in my head. I know there's more to me than my physical capabilities or my ability to bring in steadier income. I know I offer more than that. But when I'm so overwhelmed by pain that I can't even eat? Yeah it's not easy to remember. It's not easy to convince myself that I'm worth a damn.