When your mind is saying “go do it, it needs to be done” and you listen..you push your body to move and psych yourself up to do what you need done.

Well, today once again, my body let me down.  Even though I slept in, felt refreshed and went through my morning routine (a bit late but hey) I headed out to get the garden planted. My task was to get into the ground as much as I could, thinking I could work a few hours slowly, taking my time, not overdoing it.  Grabbed my gear, knee pads, shovel, gloves.  Maybe I started in the wrong place, maybe my body at the first bend was like “fuck this” but anyway I find myself digging in a spot that was rock hard..5 pots in I knew it was gonna be a short stint.  My husband dug up a small area for me to put in the next tray, it SHOULD have been easy, but by the time I got 7 more pots in I was in tears, my knees were throbbing, my back felt like it would break. It is bad enough pushing myself but my husband had to make comments about me groaning and crying. When I begin to say how I want to do things but when I try I cant, he chimes in with his aches and pains. Always being there to compare and out do my pains with his, to make fun by groaning, it doesnt help me. It diminishes my ability more by destroying my emotional strength.  I asked to keep it small this year, not do the usual 3000sq ft garden because I physically CANT do it.  He said “all this is for you to sell at the market” (the market that I thought would be busy, I thought would give me purpose, I extend so much energy to make $20.  a week) I went in and took pain pills, muscle relaxers and 2 Xanax.  Went back out and tried again. 3 more pots and I was on the ground on my back.made the decision that I would do 1 more section then I HAD to be DONE.  He carried over the pots for me, There is a 30 ft strip along the fence, usually covered with Sunflowers every season. This year he decided to add Zinnias to the strip along with the Sunflowers. I crawled along, planting the full strip..was glad to be done. Could barely walk back to house and up the stairs.

The drugs were hitting me, dragging my ass back to the house I sat on the edge of the tub in tears, washing down my legs and feet, splashing my face. Feeling incredibly dizzy, shaky, and sick I crawled under the heat blanket in my bed, wrapped the heat pad around my back and fell asleep. I sort of remember him asking me about coming down and watching a movie, not remembering if I answered. I woke about 7pm..shaky, sick to my stomach I headed down to find something to eat.  ended up with PB&J. Back to bed after apologizing for being a loser, worthless and not wanting to live like this.

I cant accept this, cant accept the fact that my wants and wishes are always going to be shot down by a body that is struggling to move.  To be able to function I have to take drugs, which knock me on my ass and make it impossible for me to function at all. These people that embrace their illness and rejoice in telling people about it and remaining positive must have better support than I do. Maybe they are stronger than me, maybe they havent been worn down physically, mentally and emotionally to the point where they are sick of breathing.  They are doing pilates and shopping in malls..how? How are they doing all this when I can barely get out of bed.

No one fucking cares really, my friends are gone, everyone has their own lives, their own troubles.  My best friend doesnt even call me to see how I am. My husband really should move on and find happiness because he sure as hell isnt ever going to find it with me anymore.

I am tired of putting on a brave face, tired of being so alone, tired of doctors rushing me out because they know they cant help me. I am just so fucking tired of it all. With no light at the end of my tunnel I have no hope. I wont make it much longer without some change. I cant do it myself since I am a useless, worthless loser who cant even plant a few fucking flowers.