But I didn’t buy it. When I was going through physio therapy in hospital, the therapists, nurses, doctors and the psychiatrists all warned me to expect a bout of depression. They said eventually my progress would slow down and plateau. If the plateau comes before I’m emotionally ready to accept where I’m at physically, I should be prepared to deal with depression. I was so focused on my recovery that I paid very little attention to them, thinking I’m strong and positive, they’re used to patients with pity party issues. On that note, welcome to my pity party.
I had been working so hard on my recovery, happily celebrating every improvement, big or small, ,that I almost didn’t notice that the progress was slowing. The plateau is close. I can feel it. I am nowhere near ready to spend a long period of time with little to no improvement. I really expected to be walking much better, longer distance, better balance, better stamina before improvements stop for a while. I’m still far too attached to my wheelchair. I’m not able to walk outside yet. Crying uncontrollaby a lot more often, blaming hormones will only last so long. . Every tiny thing I do is way more difficult and more painful than it should be . I’m feeling like a prisoner in my body. Everyone around me needs me to be strong and happy, so I put on the facade because it would hurt too much to see disappointment on their faces.
I get so angry when someone close to me bitches about some petty non-problem and expects my sympathy . But before I say anything I’ll regret, the guilt takes over. They should be allowed to express their issues, their pain, even if it is miniscule in comparison to what I may have to spend the rest of my life dealing with. Every time I see someone I haven’t seen for a while, and I’m asked, do you feel better,with such hope on their faces. I want to scream from my wheelchair, do I look like I feel anything but shitty? ! But, being the polite Canuck that I am, I always smile and say, a little bit better every day. All of this inner turmoil that never gets vented is about to explode in a humiliating way. I can feel it brewing. I would lean more on my husband, but I get the feeling he’s barely hanging on, himself. He’s been through too much this past year to have to deal with my self pity.
Don’t feel like I can lean on my folks for emotional support because they really need me to be the strong one. My dad would likely shut down or tell me about all the hope I should have. My mom would tell me that I should suck it up and move on. And, sadly she’s right. But that’s not possible until I feel the pain first and there’s a lot of it.
If you stayed with me this far, I want to thank you for coming to the party. And so I don’t leave you with a bad taste in your mouth, I’ll leave with a smile.