It felt so great to do laundry at the laundromat all by myself today. I hauled it in, I threw it in the machines, I folded it, I hauled it back to the car, then hauled it into the house, then hung it up, and put it all away. BAM!
THIS is ME…..the ME I left behind with my fibro & osteo diagnoses a hundred million years ago. The ME that loved to work, loved to move, to be on her feet and burn every minute of every day doing SOMETHING. Being ACTIVE. Being ALIVE.
Not this OTHER me. This “me” that sits all day and wanders from room to room. The me that never leaves the house for sometimes weeks at a time. The me that feels pain in varying intensity depending on activity, or the weather, or just because. The me that’s not allowed to walk, or run or play.
She sits and stares at the computer monitor much of the day because that’s where her life is. She lays with eyes wide open in the dark in the early morning hours with anxiety and depression and loneliness as companions. Waiting for the pain to stop, but it never stops….not really. It just moves around… stabbing, kicking, shooting, piercing, aching, burning.
She waits for the medicine to dull the pain enough so she can get a few hours sleep. Sometimes its one hour, sometimes its nine. Just depends. Never knowing what to expect. It’s always different.
That “me” that lunges at the chance, that perfect storm of a chance, to take the van out by herself one magical day, when the pain level is low…. to drive amongst all the other cars on the roads with people inside, and act like she has a life, if only for a few hours, before she goes back to prison and the cell door slams shut.