For the last several days I have been in a lot of pain, in several areas of my body. My hips, my back, and my right wrist were the main villains. My hips kept cracking and snapping, and my back was aching something fierce. It made it hard to walk around and to bend. I didn’t accomplish any of the chores I wanted to do around the house, and spent most of the weekend on the couch under a blanket. The tumor on my right wrist kept catching on tendons and muscles and “snapping” any time I tried to pick up something, put weight on it, or…you know, move it. I didn’t finish any of my writing assignments, because it hurt too much to type. Usually by Sunday night, I have a post written up for the MHE Coalition and one written for the OCH Literary Society, as well as several blog posts lined up for the week. This weekend was a bust for that, though, and I felt like a failure for not completing my writing goals.
So last night…I threw myself a pity party.
Being in pain constantly wears down your spirit and makes you susceptible to dark feelings of inadequacy. I was feeling insecure, and I started to sulk about things.
I told my husband that I felt like he regrets marrying me because he has to pick up the slack during my bad pain days and I can’t do everything that someone else could do. Plus, my hip dislocates almost every time we have sex. That’s kind of shitty, right? For him, I mean? And me too, I guess.
I pointed this out, tears in my eyes and Matt looked at me and said; “Stop this. Stop this right now. You’re better than this – be better.”
I paused at his words, absorbing them. At first, I wanted to take offense to his words. Why would he tell me that? Why would he shove off my worries and fears? Then…I took a moment to think about it. He was telling me I was better than giving in to my insecurities. He was telling me that I was letting the pain cloud my mind and my judgment. He loves me, my MHE has no bearing on that, and so what if we have to switch up the positions a few times, so what if he had to cook dinner and I didn’t clean the house. So what if I needed to take a few days to rest up and not overdo it.
I am better than my insecurities. I am better than rolling over and letting this disorder truly get me down. He wanted me to see all that I do do, even on bad pain days…even when it hurts. He wanted me to take a look at my accomplishments and not flap my gums and discredit everything I’ve done and everything I continue to do.
He wanted me to be better, because he knows I am better. I am better than letting my bad days get me down. I am more than this; I am more than MHE and depression and anxiety. I married a guy who sees all the good in me and loves me through the rough times, but also isn’t afraid to tell me to be better when I’m not doing my best, when I’m not treating myself the way I deserve to be treated. I have beautiful children that will look up to me for guidance navigating this disorder and all that comes with it. I have children that are watching me, watching to see how I handle the bad days.
So, I’m going to handle them…better. I’m not going to let my feelings of inadequacy darken everything I’ve done and will do. I’m going to take the rest days, and I’m not going to punish myself for needing them.
I’m going to be better.