I'm Not Perfect, Trust Me

I think that I have gotten too good at hiding my pain, worry, stress, and physical insecurities.  This is not a good thing.  This is me, publicly admitting a fault, and I'm not entirely sure how to fix it.  However, I am not admitting defeat.  Honestly, I'm flummoxed, but this is something that I really need to decipher for myself and then I need to figure out how to accurately convey my findings.

I thought that by starting this blog, becoming an advocate, displaying my use of the Spoon Theory, and living the right life for me, that I could provide my family with some insight into my world of picking my battles, what my pain is like, and how much effort goes into each and every decision that I have to make.  I also hoped that thinking in terms of "spoons" would help my family cope with the restrictions that will follow my Dad's surgery.  I had emailed the Spoon Theory link to everyone in my family a couple of weeks ago, with the hope that it would offer some comfort and insight for all of us.  At dinner the other night, only my Mom and my Team knew what I was I talking about when I mentioned "spoons."  Everyone else looked at me like I owed them money and was speaking in tongues.  What I should have done was go straight to my folks' silverware drawer to gather up every spoon I could find and have them physically hold the spoons and then feel the loss as I take one away for every little detail.  But it was a family Funday and I consciously made the decision that the timing was inappropriate.  Selfishly, that particular decision bit me in the oostakaka yesterday in the waiting room of one of the fanciest surgical facilities I have ever seen.

I had saved up every "spoon" I could muster, was completely ready for any personal emergency regarding my RSD issues, and had my game face on for my family.  About 2 hours into Dad's surgery, I felt a spasm in my lower back on the right side.  I was prepared!!  I got into my Go-Bag and got a HeatWrap and Instant Heat Pad out and asked my sister if she'd give me a hand with it in the restroom.  30 minutes later I lost a unforeseen battle with a pleather chaise chair/lounger thingy.  It was a total "freak accident" as my Mom called it.  I was sitting in the boxy chair that had a tab in front that allowed me to pull out a foot rest and the chair turned into a chaise lounge.  I had stood up for some reason, I can't remember why, and (thank you RSD) I got kinda wobbly so I sat down ... on the foot rest ... and it collapsed under my immense weight.  (can't you just hear the sarcasm dripping from my voice?  HA!!)  This falter really jostled my lower back (already in spasm) and my right hip to the point of causing weakness and elevated pain to my upper right leg.  Talk about a setback!!  But Mom was the only one to acknowledge that something had happened.  It seemed to everyone else that I just "fell with tears."  When we were finally called in to the consult room to discuss Dad's surgery with the surgeon, to add insult to injury (literally), I felt shunned and excluded until I made my voice heard, and then I was told to "be nice" ... who me??  I totally did not mean to come across as snippy or mean and that was only understood by one person in the room.  I was in pain and I had questions of my own about Dad's recovery for which I wanted answers.  As soon as the consult was over and we were assured of Dad's progress and cooperativeness during the surgery, I pulled my Mom aside to apologize.  That was absolutely not the time for me to remove my mask.  I felt horrid for what I was I feeling, and whether or not I was indeed showing it, I needed to tell her how sorry I was.

I am a natural worrier.  I come by it honestly.  In these last 3 years of my coherency, I have better handled my worry and found ways to redirect it as much as possible through pacing, writing, practicing bio-feedback, listening to my Pain Day playlist, and watching my "feel good movies."  None of which I did yesterday.  Totally my bad!!  During my niece's surgeries, my parent's travels, my brother's trauma, and my own health issues, both RSD and upper respiratory, my concern has lied in my family and how they are coping.  So I downplay my own issues to give them my support.  Throughout Da Gurl's surgeries, I was worried about my sister who was worried about her daughter.  I was worried about my Mom and Dad who were worried about their daughter and granddaughter.  My parents numerous travels to and from Kansas have become "normal" but that doesn't mean that I'm "ok" with it all of the time.  I worry about my brother's head, post concussion.  I worry about my parents who worry about my brother.  Why I didn't combat my worry/stress/pain in a better fashion yesterday completely escapes me.  I am not perfect but dammit I am better than that and I know it!!

I have faith that I will find the answers to the mysteries of my insecurities.  This is, most definitely, a learning experience and hopefully I will be more prepared for future worries, God forbid!!  I have faith that this particular post will piss a few people off, but this is my diary about how I deal with my life and my RSD.  I am merely showing my disappointment in myself for not conveying my own feelings and opinions in a more constructive manner. I have faith in myself to make the right decisions for me and I hope that the people that mean the most to me will do their own due diligence regarding the Spoon Theory.  If I can't get my blood relations to understand, maybe I need to rethink my own objectives.  So much thinking, so little time!!  (yowza!!)