I have been so down the last few weeks. I thought that I was getting better–and I have in ways–but I tried going to the grocery store a couple of weeks ago and just fell back almost to the worst I’ve felt. I am better, but it is because I am following orders to not do anything outside of my normal in-house things; walking around, doing basic housework, etc. I can’t even do much of that without a lot of pain. We had to go to Target today and after having made a circle around the perimeter of a very small TJ Maxx store, I knew that I couldn’t walk through Target. I broke down and used one of the motorized carts. I’m not patient and I keep wondering if I will ever be able to walk again. I can walk, I just can’t do it for long or without considerable pain.
When I talk about this, I am aware of the able-body privilege with which I frame my understanding. While I have always had back problems since I fell on my tailbone as a young child, I have never been unable to walk or carry my kids. This last pregnancy really started all of this. Anyway, this is where my mind is. Part of me is averse to using the moto-carts because of how people will look at me. I am fat, and they will think that I am being lazy or that I would be able to walk if I weren’t so big. I know that I need to let that go, but it’s really hard. It was amazing to be able to get around the store with less pain. I was also not in the town where I live and I am not so sure I would use one here at home. But why? People’s assumptions should not even play a role my desire to move freely. I find myself wondering if I will ever be “normal” again, knowing full well what an awful thing that is to say. What the hell is normal? Are people with disabilities abnormal? Of course not. That’s a life-time of being able-bodied talking, remembering what “normal” has always been for me.
I’ve had so many well-meaning people tell me to try A, B, or C. I know that running 5 miles a day works for some people, but it won’t help me. I know that a raw food diet could make me feel better, but I can’t afford it and I’m too depressed to care anyway. I get that people are trying to help, but I hate the assumption that they know what is best for me. I have been dealing with this for almost three years. I know, as a massage therapist, what is going on in my body (to a degree). My chiropractor, PA, and physical therapist are all telling me the same thing; do nothing until we can get this under control. Christ, being in the water is painful. Trying to walk and exercise even with the help of the buoyancy makes me tear up in pain. Sometimes I’m even lucky enough to have muscle spasms while I’m still IN the water. Imagine how that feels when I have to haul this huge body back into normal gravity.
I’m just so sad that I can’t do things with my kids or walk through the store. I’m pretty much okay if I don’t move around, but I can’t even stand up to make dinner or wash dishes. My ass hurts from sitting so much. My muscles are weak from injury. My brain is in overdrive and underdrive, both at the same time. I just want to be better. I’m not ready to face 50+ more years of pain. Then, of course, I feel guilty because I have friends who suffer from chronic pain. E has a head injury now that has been going strong for three weeks. J has RSD, an extremely painful disorder that I can’t even begin to imagine having to live with for the 10 years he has. I have no idea what it’s like to live with fibromyalgia, which several people I know have. I am thankful that I have the health that I do (which, other than the mono, asthma, and the reproductive issues–which are awful and I would rather rip my own uterus out than deal with anymore–is very good).
The gist of this story is that I am sad and frustrated. I am trying to learn how to deal with this new phase of my life, which is very difficult because I’ve always been physically strong and healthy. I’ve only been in PT for a month – I know that I need to be patient.
