Sometimes, a lot of times, I start too big and jump in headfirst when I should start small. Baby steps, one step at a time. I get all gung-ho and then I just completely smash myself down. I need to learn to crawl before I walk, walk before I run, etc. This is a downfall of mine. I need to learn to take things slowly, one day at a time. This surgery has/is teaching me that. I’ve been so impatient with healing and feeling back to “normal”. I’m very scared. Scared that this is as good as it’s going to get and that it’s not going to get better. That I’m going to have to live with this constant nagging pain and this feeling that someone’s knee is digging into my tailbone. Sitting is the most painful thing and I just can’t do it for more than 20 minutes without having to shift or get up and walk around. I’m wishing I could have put this surgery off for a few years, because the most difficult thing has been trying to recover and take care of two little boys that still need constant attention. I can’t leave the room without Max following me or asking me what I’m doing and when I’m coming back. This, by far, has been the most trying time of my life and I’m ready to get past it. I want to fast forward 6 months and be done with this whole thing.
I started physical therapy last week and it was BRUTAL. I’m doing exercises that hurt and then having my physical therapist push around on areas that are “tender” (which is a huge understatement). Since my spine has been fused together my body, my hip especially, just doesn’t move like it should. Physical therapy is working on that, but I need to get used to the fact that my back will never be the same. I’m not trying to sound whiny, but I’m having a hard time emotionally dealing with everything. It’s depressing. I can’t pick up my sweet little baby that looks me in the eye and says, “Hold me up, please.” It breaks my heart. I love my boys so much and I hate the fact that I can’t do the things I want to do. I’m praying that one day I will be able to play with my kids, play volleyball, exercise, and without pain. Pain is depressing, but the mental anguish is even worse. I feel guilty and sad. Don’t get me wrong, some days are better than others, and I’m desperately trying to have a positive outlook, however, there are times when I just can’t hold it together anymore and I cry. I release and let go and just let my emotions get the best of me. I don’t wallow long, but it’s almost like the crazy hormones after a baby where you find yourself crying at a stupid commercial. I’m fragile. I remind myself that this is just a small glimpse in my life and I tell myself that things WILL get better. Nevertheless, it’s rough.
In an effort to strengthen my mental state (and because we should anyway), Cale and I have started a daily Bible study that we hold each other accountable for. I’m reading aloud to my kids every morning and every afternoon, and while I don’t know how much they actually understand, I think it’s good for them to see and hear me reading the Bible out loud. I’m trying to put my faith in God and I do know that he will see me through, he always has. Lots of prayer. This weak point in my life will strengthen me, and I will be better because of it. Eye on the prize.