My enemy
Right now I’m injured. I’m not allowed to do my usual chores around the house. I took a fall a few weeks ago and my lower spine feels like its got needles in it. The pain’s taken to shooting down my legs these last couple days. If I bend over a little too far, or crouch down to pick something up, I risk wrenching my back and making it worse. I did that yesterday and cried most of the night. Nothing helped the pain. My husband scolded me for hurting myself and laid me in the bed. “It won’t be like this forever. It might take a few weeks or a few months, but it won’t always be this way. Just let yourself heal.”
It makes me miss the days when I could’ve gotten out of bed but didn’t. When I could have told myself that the mental anguish I put myself through for so many years didn’t amount to squat, because now there’s this.
Maybe this will change me and make me appreciate walking and doing like never before. Maybe when I’m healed I’ll finally find my motivation.
That’s my hope for the future; the thing that’s always kept me going. I can’t help but think of all the days wasted on crying and wanting to die. It gets so much worse. I realize that now.
I always was my own worst enemy.