I did not expect to be this preoccupied with healing. I honestly thought that I would be online all the time, listening to music and writing. But I am not. And it is okay. And yet, it is not – or better yet: it doesn’t feel that way. No one is waiting for my posts; we all know that. No one is expecting anything; we all know that too. And yet… Being in my own head and not in the mood to write or listen to music, focusing on not doing much, that is new, and I need to get used to this.
A couple of days ago, my youngest daughter asked if I don’t feel useless, now that I can’t even lift my arm. The answer is yes. I see all the work that needs to be done, and I cannot do it. I cannot take care of my family. It’s frustrating.
This morning I posted an awful piece of poetry on IG. It’s really not good. I used to be a good writer. But then my arm wasn’t paralyzed, and I didn’t need to rely on painkillers to get through the day.
All the whining, but there is progress. I need fewer drugs and can move the arm more. I just cannot lift it yet.
Thank you for checking on me, even if only silently. It matters. You matter. Goodnight.