Sunday, 29 July 2012


Only last year, I was still in ridiculous amounts of pain.

Two years ago, I was in unbearable pain, physical and emotional, crying all the time, not wanting to cut myself off from the world again, but finding myself incapable of coping with it.

Four years ago, I was making my first steps towards regaining a normal life, one that involved social and physical activities, feeling so lucky that I had found a chiropractor who was giving me back this chance.

Eight years ago, I was sinking into a miserable depression, having lost two pregnancies in a year and knowing most people were so tired of me being sad that I just kept up a happy face.  One Kinder Mum said she was astounded when she found out I was depressed, because I always seemed so cheerful that she had been envious.  I must remember that when I worry about my acting abiity.
Now.  Right now.   I feel pretty good.  By the Ambulance Guy's scale of "Zero is no pain and 10 is the worst pain you can ever imagine", I'm feeling about on a one.  Neck twinges, of course.  Slight ache in my lower back.  I'm ignoring any circus/rollerblading induced pain, since that creates more happiness than the pain takes away.  Some numbness down my right arm.  I may have dropped a lot of things today, since I am totally out of the habit of watching myself pick up something, visually gauge how tight I need to hold it and then keep monitoring it all the time.  Did I ever decline to hold your baby, when everyone knew how much I adored cuddling babies?  This would be why.  My heart would jump and that horrid feeling of intense fear and apprehension of injuring such a precious being, plus the added social worry of having to decline such a risky activity without having to go through the whole explanation and medical aspect of why.

I know some Kinder Mum's thought it was because it was too emotionally hard for me, after having lost so many pregnancies.  Which in some cases, it was.  
A close friend, whom I used to visit every week had a lovely new daughter,  She was six weeks old before I managed to force myself over for that first meeting.  I had my princess in the toddler seat, wondering why I kept turning the car around to go home.  She probably didn't wonder why I cried, cos even at that age, she knew how much I missed the sister she was supposed to have, the unknown ectopic baby that I hadn't even allowed myself to hope about, or so I thought.  My Princess watered our lost baby's rose every day for that autumn. 
When I finally reached my friend's house and cuddled her new little girl, (sitting ever so carefully on the couch and letting her put her tiny lady into my lap, cos she knew all about my difficulties) it felt like the grey ice around me shattered a little and let some sunshine back into my heart.

I can handle this level of pain.  I can handle the rigmarole, the restrictions that go with keeping it to this level.  I can cope.  
And every single moment of the day, I am very aware of how lucky I am to have the life I have right now.  And I am going to use it.
Admittedly, for Circus and playing with my daughter, collecting old cars with my Hubby and cuddling my cats. 

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