I’m sure this is only a brief dance into this topic, but after my experience yesterday I felt it was important to remind us that our stories matter.
Yesterday, it was strongly suggested that I should be working any job and should have never not been working. My health aside.
Just a friendly reminder – brain surgery was August 2021
Regardless, my eyes were opened to a new kind of wide yesterday and this morning I found myself replaying a lot of those words.
And then a moment of clarity.
I worked through two miscarriages. I was actively miscarring and stood at work, smiling at customers. Both work and home expected that of me.
They weren’t babies, I wasn’t pregnant long enough for it to matter, I should just get over it….yeah, yep, uh huh…
At one time, I was eating baby food because my stomach hurt so much – for months – following a miscarriage and I worked through it. I didn’t miss work. I didn’t call off. I covered shifts. I worked long hours.
I cried in the shower. I cried in my car. I cried in bed.
But you better believe I was expected to keep working.
It doesn’t matter that you already worked 45 hours this week, it doesn’t matter that you’re sick, you’re crying for no reason, you have to bring home money…right, sure, okay…
I had to have surgery to help with the stomach issues and even planned to be back to work in two weeks.
Can’t put anyone out.
Can’t lose money.
Can’t be gone too long.
And then I was dizzy. I was nauseous. I was throwing up. I couldn’t think straight. Everything moved and I was pretty sure I was standing still. I got progressively worse. I couldn’t drive a vehicle. I couldn’t even ride in a vehicle. My body hurt all the time. My head hurt all the time. I was always tired. I felt weak. It took all my energy to have a conversation. My understanding of things was distorted. I couldn’t get in and out of the tub without issues. It took so much longer to do things. And then my verbal and written communications got rough.
I was convinced my body hated me.
But there wasn’t an understanding by those closest to me at the time. There was judgement. There was anger. There was hatred. And now I realize there was no love.
No research into my situation was done and no help for figuring out what was going on. Advocating for myself was the only way I got myself out of the repetitive cycle of medication and appointments with doctors that weren’t hearing me.
When the surgery for my Chiari was scheduled, I wanted it to go the best it could. I asked the doctor for some pointers for the best outcome. I was limited. [Working on my words to myself.] My capabilities were different at the time.
So, I adjusted my eating. I found ketones. I held on for dear life and walked in place. I had to be below a certain BMI. I had to get the most out of this surgery.
There was no praise for the effort. There was no support for the preparation. There was a fight just to get a ride to doctor appointments.
When I say I felt like a burden…and even for so long I thought maybe I could have just sucked it up and kept going…fuck that.
Excuse my language, but no. No more. I have allowed the guilt of my medical issues linger for far too long. Allowed the opinions of others to diminish what I went through, what I am going through now.
Don’t do it. Can’t do it. Won’t do it. Nope.
I had something powerful keeping me strong yesterday and it’s holding me up today.
When you think you’ve grown enough, you get more to help you grow some more – whether you think you’re ready for it or not.
In all of this, I’ve realized how much of that mentality I’ve lived with for so long. And while it’s been such a hurtful situation, I realized how much I changed because of the world I was living in…because of someone else’s world I was trying to live in.
Are you living in someone else’s world? Are you trying to live for someone else that wouldn’t live for you? Are you letting them write your story? Is it even yours? Or are you just a part in someone else’s book?
The parts we play in other people’s stories are their perspective. Remember, they see things with a mind you have no control over with baggage you didn’t create. Their mentality came from a place of their own circumstances and trauma they dealt with in healthy or unhealthy ways. Don’t take it personally, and don’t waste your energy or try to “fix” them.
The only story you can work on is your own, so quit tagging along in someone else’s story. And for all that is Holy in this world, stop using a dried out pen, Baby! Find a crayon, find some lipstick, snatch some welding equipment and get to writing (if you haven’t seen words with a torch, you’re missing out on a different art form). You get the idea. It doesn’t have to be a pen. Our stories are ours and we can tell it in any kind of art form…any at all.
I read recently that as a Generator, I should be living in excitement. If it frustrates me, I’m on the wrong path. Boy, has that woken up my understanding of my years past and how my days will come.
In looking for the visual above, I came across this little nugget.
Sometimes I get off track in my moments, I hope in those off-track moments, I offer you all a little bit of something that helps. Maybe the off-track moments aren’t off track but exactly where I need to be for me and maybe for you, too.
Please know that you are not alone.
Reblogged this on Disablities & Mental Health Issues.
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Such a beautiful post ❤️
Thanks for sharing
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Thank you 💜💜💜
You are most welcome ❤️
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