Recovery really, really, really sucks!
It is such an up and down ordeal.
You think you're OK and you are.
For a while.
Maybe even for the best part of a day.
And then something occurs that your brain can't quite process.
At when it's over, you're reduced to tears.
And then the breakdown happens.
Anything can cause a meltdown.
Yesterday, mine came as a result of a simple telephone call, followed by my need to drive myself to the massage therapist.
And I literally didn't know what to do to adjust my car for my driving needs (John has been doing all the driving for the past while so my car was left in his driving position).
It took every ounce of my focus ability to drive the few kilometers to my therapist (three straight lines!).
But I made it.
And the massage was wonderfully physically therapeutic.
But emotionally, I was a wreck.
I got back in the car, and the tears started again.
What the hell is wrong with me?
And when is it going to stop?
I drove home, slowly, but at the posted limit (others passed me in their urgent need to get to where they were going) and when I got here, I sat down and bawled.
John came home and asked his usual, "How are you?"
Of course, he saw that I was crying, and asked what was wrong.
When I told him that the drive to the massage therapist was obviously too much for me, he said that will come, eventually.
It has been a while, after all, since I've been driving.
Then I told him that I couldn't even figure out how to adjust my own car for my driving needs and that got me sobbing through my laughter, because, "How stupid is that!"
So he tells me that I'll get better, really I will.
But my question was, "But how am I going to know when I'm better enough to drive -- without driving?"
I know, I know, all will happen in its time but oh it's taking too long.
It feels like I'm taking one step forward and two steps back.
I'm up, I'm down, I'm up, I'm down again.
The tears start from nothing, or they start from the slightest, silliest little thing.
Everything overwhelms me now.
I used to manage a very busy MP's office (and still had a busy, fulfilling life), without blinking an eye! And now I can't manage to readjust the seat in my car without falling apart!
Fortunately, John has a good understanding of what's happening so his patience is remarkable (and he swears he still loves me!).
I've become increasingly unsteady on my feet, requiring me to now use my cane in my home. Is that another indicator that I really should be getting that walker that my physiotherapist has suggested?
Slow and easy is practically a foreign concept for me; I mean, I've heard of it, but I'm used to juggling many tasks at once at break-neck speed.
And, as my little chickadee -- the one with the BA in Psychology -- explained, perhaps the fact that the tears are so upsetting to me is because I'm not, by nature, a "cryer." I've always taken whatever life's thrown my way in stride, and just gone on with my life no matter what, and now that control has been taken from me, through no fault of my own. Perhaps I'm having difficulty accepting the loss of that control. Mama didn't raise no dummy!
As I think about her words though, methinks it's more the loss of dignity than anything else; not knowing how to deal with the incompetence that I'm having to confront; fearing the loss of my competence and independence, actually. What if it never comes back?
Thank God I have a loving support system to help me through this because I certainly couldn't make it without them!
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