Tag: pain

Sabotage

On By NB GwenIn The JourneyLeave a comment

“Don’t sabotage yourself. There are plenty of other people willing to do that for free.”
― Jenny Lawson, Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things

Self-sabotage. I do it. I do it almost daily. I do it in my mental blocks. I do it in my self-loathing. I do it in my journey to health. I do it without consciously realizing I am doing it.

I keep hearing quips in my head. Little fragments of happy-go-lucky sayings that scratch at my brain, demanding attention. “You got this!”, “You can do it!”, “Baby steps!”, “One day at a time.” “Just keep swimming.” (Actually, I love that last one, Dory is awesome).

This past summer I have had more energy and drive than I have had in YEARS. I wish that was hyperbolic, but it is, unfortunately, not.

I’ve been cutting old death growth off of the trees around our property, cutting back overgrown bushes. Getting thorns stuck in my hands from old rose bushes. I’ve been cleaning up old growth and creating a fence of sorts from the old branches and growth (nothing garbaged, everything re-used of composted). I’ve felt more capable this year than – well, I don’t remember that.

Back at the end of June or start of July (brain fog, can’t remember when for sure), I fell off my deck. This wouldn’t be a huge deal, it’s only a foot tall. What is the big deal is that there was a big stump where I fell…and I hit is HARD with my left shin. I almost passed out.

Fast forward to almost 2 weeks ago. My left leg on the inside (anterior) beside the shin (tibia) starting hurting like hell. I decided to finally get it checked, especially since I still have bruising on my leg. I had injured my tibialis tendon – impact injury. It caused bad inflamation (seen on x-ray). I was told to rest, take anti-inflamatories.

Ok, not a bad thing…right? Wrong. I see the bariatric surgeon on the 23rd of this month to see if I am ready for gastric bypass surgery. My health issues make it hard to impossible to lose enough weight on my own – even with all the work I’ve done this summer, including walking our adorable pup, I have only managed to lose two pounds. In order to have gastric bypass you have to do certain things. One of those is NO NSAIDs, which are anti-inflamatories. Another – 30 minutes of exercise a day. The exact opposite of what the doctor said would heal my tendon.

On top of the anterior tibialis tendonitis, I also have tendonitis in my left elbow and my carpal tunnel in both hands has increased, most noticeably in my right.

What does all this mean? Fucked if I know. I feel like the universe is telling me to stay fat and I’m flipping the bird at the universe – even the constantly numb middle finger.

It’s like the powers that be are saying fuck you bitch – and I’m yelling back at them to BRING IT ON.

Have I sabotaged myself this time? Maybe. Personally, I would rather keep my energy going than lie down and absorb it all again. I don’t want to go gently into anything – I’m raging against it. I’m over all this pain and depression. It is constantly trying to suck me into that vortex of nothingness. The spiral of stagnation.

Am I going to keep this energy going? I honestly don’t know, but I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try.

Bonus – our baby girl is getting bigger…she’s 40 lbs at 5 months old. Sweet Dahlia – she’s a handful, but I love her snuggles and her.

Dahlia at 5 months old

Beastie Boys – Sabotage

Hurt

On By NB GwenIn The JourneyLeave a comment

“Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.” ― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

It’s funny the things that can trigger memories and bring them to the fore.

A song. A word. An action.

Sometimes the memories are incredible. My friends and I on the beach. Sun glinting in my eyes, the smell of freshwater, the laughing, the ability to just be.

Sometimes the memories are just that – memories. A smell, a sense of déjà vu. A heartbeat skipped in a moment, breath caught up in the wind.

Sometimes, though, sometimes the memories are dark. Lost loved ones – buried six feet under, never to be seen in this life again. Harsh words. Regrets of actions not taken. An ache in the chest so deep it bears witness to the emptiness that lies within. It can be put aside, forced to lay dormant until that moment – a song comes on the radio, sudden intake of breath, burning in the eyes, memories of loss, hurt, anguish.

Why do the hurtful ones seem the strongest? What is it about anguish?

I sit here typing, Hurt on repeat. It is trapped in a loop, just as I am. I missed a step somewhere along the way. I’ve had others tell me that I need to be in the moment. I need to move on. Mindfulness, they say, is the way to let go of that ache, that stress, that hurt.

But how? How does one forget and move on? Maybe forget is the wrong word, but as awful as my short term memory is, my long term memory is strong, sometimes too strong…

I’ve let myself down. I really don’t know what I’ve become or who I am anymore.  I put on a good show, I act like I know. But I don’t, and I can’t start over, I can’t keep myself from falling away. Everything feels surreal, and yet so incredibly, solidly real.

Johnny Cash – Hurt

Roar

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“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow.” ― Mary Anne Radmacher

Some days I feel like a little mouse. I wander through my day, nary disturbing a soul. Other days, I feel like a muted lion. I’m roaring, roaring so loud my ears are ringing and yet no one hears me.

When I was young, I was bullied. The bullying stopped when I changed schools, but the low self-esteem and extreme shyness didn’t.

As I grew older, I tried harder and harder to break out of that shell, but succeeded mostly in feeling worthless and acting happy. My relationships didn’t last – I was too busy doing what others thought I should do, but pretending to do ‘my thing’.

That combination of low self-esteem, losing someone I loved, and keeping up appearances landed me straight into a marriage that I didn’t really want. Sounds harsh, doesn’t it? I need to clarify – I thought I was in love. I had left someone I loved dearly due to what others said I should do and fell into the arms of a man I would never have normally even looked at. He could sweat talk anyone and even though his controlling ways grew over our engagement, I thought I couldn’t say no anymore because I had already said yes and it was expected.

Years later, after we divorced (I won’t get into the details of our marriage, I have two beautiful older children who don’t deserve to read that online), I spent a few months trying to find ‘me’. I thought I knew me, but I didn’t. It was tumultuous, emotionally draining, and a hugely stressful time.

Out of that time I met my current husband. We met online playing World of Warcraft. We were friends first and foremost. I never even considered sparking anything with him until one day I asked if he was on Facebook. He was – and the rest is history.

I thought I had finally found myself with him. I love myself husband deeply. He stood by me when I was diagnosed with MS. He stood by my little family when my kids became harder and harder to cope with due to disabilities. He still stands by me and now our three children (we had one little guy together). I feel like I will never be able to tell him or express to him how much gratitude I have for him in my life.

He was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2016. Our lives never seem easy.

I thought I knew me by now. But I don’t. At 44 years old, I am roaring to myself and no one hears. I have an inner anarchist that is never let loose due to propriety. I have to work full-time, I have to be a good mother, I have to be a good wife, I have to be a good care-taker, I have to be a good worker, I have to be a good everything.

The only problem is – I’m not a good me.

Katy Perry – Roar

Heavy

On By NB GwenIn The Journey

“Duty is heavy as a mountain, death is light as a feather.”  ― Robert Jordan

Mental health is a battle. A battle with yourself. A battle with society. A battle with perception. A battle with judgement.

Battles aren’t meant to be fought alone. A soldier never enters a field without his fellows.

When I hear the word battle, I think of something tragic, hard, frustrating, painful. Mental health is all of those…and more.

No one chooses to have to deal with all that. No one wakes up in the morning thinking, “Hey, I think I’ll be depressed today and not function in life.” Who wants that? No ONE.

With chronic illness, comes a host of chronic issues. Depression. Anxiety. Fatigue. Feelings of inadequacy. Regret. Fear. All of those and so much more.

Every day I wake up, I prepare myself for battle. Some days, I rock it. I win that day. Others, I flounder and trip over the simplest things and feel the judgement of the world on my shoulders.

“Love yourself!” That’s what I always hear from others. “You will never be happy with yourself, until you love yourself.” I really wish it was that easy. I envy those who are capable of doing just that.

Every day I wake up wondering if I will ever be enough. Enough for my husband. Enough for my children. Enough for my pets. Enough for my job.

I want to sleep. Not the regular type. I want to curl up in my bed and not move for days. But my body aches throughout the night, my bladder wakes me up. My hips tell me I can’t lay for too long and I have to keep moving. I have to keep going. I have to keep working.

For now, I have to keep moving. The weight of everything weighs on me, and I have no idea how to set myself free.

Linkin Park (feat. Kiiara) – Heavy

Grace Kelly

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“Do one thing every day that scares you.” ― Eleanor Roosevelt

I’ve been doing a lot of introspective thinking about myself. Why I have anxiety, why I have depression, why is life a constant battle for me?

Fear.

We all have the power to do what we need to do in our lives. We have choices. I often hear that we are the only ones responsible for the choices we make. This is truth.

I often have allowed fear to rule my choices. I’ve allowed fear to control me, instead of me controlling fear.

Fear of succeeding, fear of being a burden, fear of letting everyone down (how could I possibly satisfy everyone?), fear of pain, fear of conquering, fear of pretty much everything.

It’s ridiculous, and taxing. It’s stressful and anxiety producing. It is self-defeatist. There is no one in the world that everyone likes. There is no one in the world that has never let someone down.

I WANT to be fit. I WANT to be active. I WANT to feel good and be healthy. Anything after those would be icing on the cake.

Mike – Grace Kelly