I’ve had a pretty rough go of it lately. I spend so much time struggling to do things that came easy to me after my therapy and now I question whether it was actually worth it at all.

It was so expensive, and I do believe it was worth it with the visible improvements. Ultimately it was me who rendered wasteful. I just can’t keep it up. I woke up this morning feeling like I did before I even started the program fighting with my hand to stop being a fist. Then trying to get up out of bed without my leg curling in and up. It does that when it feels like it, not when I actually need it to show up (going up stairs, walking, anything). My balance has taken the biggest hit. I’ll be standing and then I turn to look at something and I almost fall over. Or when I’m brushing my teeth standing up straight, then suddenly my whole upper body leans one way and my legs decide they don’t want to The one that upset me the most was not being able to crawl around in an indoor play maze with Oliver. I couldn’t do it and it was crushing.

So I’ve been having a really hard time trying to think of what came out of this. I don’t have anybody there watching my progress. I should be able to force myself to maintain my physical abilities because they directly impact my happiness and my ability to do things with Oliver. That should be enough but it’s not. Yesterday we had an Easter egg hunt. I was really excited about it, but just thought that morning of everything I wouldn’t be able to do drained me. It’s like my thoughts set me up for failure or cautioned the impending disappointment. My mom mentioned excitedly as I was leaving hers that I was walking without a stick. My walking is not as pretty compared to being fresh out of physio because the drunk stagger is back.

I just feel like such a sad sack always complaining so much. I tell myself it could be worse but why is that something that I naturally think? Sure, I could be wheelchair bound, immobile, I could have both hands useless, or I could be dead. Or I could be like I was before having everything go to shit. I could still be teaching, running, chasing Oliver, not being too tired to move after a shower. But I’m not and I’m miserable.

This morning I took my weekly (?) shower. I dread the event of showering because it’s so draining, so I’ve become more comfortable being disgusting. It’s done wonders for my self esteem. Afterwards, I was sitting in front of the mirror trying to put lotion on my freezing cold feet. There is a stark difference in colour between my two legs. The one that works like a proper leg is normal colour, but the other one is basically purple. I’ve been watching the colour spread up over time. The same with my my hand & my arm been feeling the coldness spread up. Half of my limbs have a nice corpse-esque hue. Cool.

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