“Whatever doesn’t kill you simply makes you stronger.”
I’m thinking whoever said that never went through a series of health-related garbage so bizarre that people only half-believe the stories.
I am beginning to believe I am a hypochondriac.
The thing about health trauma? You get weak. You don’t get strong.
Last weekend, my family went camping in Utah (more on that soon), and while it was a lovely trip in a lot of ways… it showed me how WEAK I am. Physically, emotionally, everything.
Several times, I let the boys scamper off ahead of me, because I was out of breath. Or the wind was bothering my ear. Or I was just. plain. tired.
I actually took a 15 minute cat-nap under the shade of a rock in Goblin Valley while they played.
I have never been super athletic, but this is NOT NORMAL.
At first I beat myself up.
What is my problem? Why can’t I handle this? Is this how it will be FOREVER?
I’ve had restless dreams all week. Tossing and turning these feelings, and so many others, over in my head… it’s like I haven’t processed all the trauma of the last 6 months yet, and Utah forced me to face the new me. The temporary me.
One of the tests the doctors rushed me into when I came back from Austin was to make sure my skull had not been fractured by the ear infection. It was that strong and that massive. They were concerned that my BRAIN was ripped and dripping into my ear. I know I sound melodramatic when I say this, but I could have died several times this past March.
I definitely have not processed this.
Last night I finally looked at some photos I took while in New York City, right before my eyes put me in the ER. That time I was blinded and stumbling around Manhattan, right? The photos are moody, cold. It was sleeting the whole time. It’s like I knew what kind of storm was coming.
Now I just need to get over it.