I'm sitting here on my bed with puffy eyes-the remnants from yesterday's ugly cry. I am an intense person. I know this about myself, and yet I still let it get the better of me sometimes.
I've been dealing with mystery ear pain as well as a broken foot and a flare-up from the herniated discs in my neck for about 8 weeks. The ear pain is intense, as though I have an ice pick twisting into my ear drum. In that 8 weeks, I've had exactly one and a half days of no ear pain. With medication, I'm afforded, at most, 2 1/2 hours of relief.
On Monday I finally found out what may be causing it. I also found out that it could cost upwards of $3500 to fix it and even then will likely cause some permanent nerve damage to my face. It may not even fix the ear pain, but intensify it. Oh swell, it could be worse. That's when I lost it.
Well, not exactly then. I waited until a friend--one who "knew" something was up, texted me and asked if I needed to go for a walk--came over. I lasted about 10 minutes. A lot of crap has been coming to a head, and lately I haven't been the easiest person to be around.
We drove to her house and I sat there taking in the view of the entire valley and I cried, and hiccoughed, spilled my frustrations and generally felt sorry for myself. Then she took me home.
My poor husband; I ugly cried to him too. Then I locked myself in the bathroom.
I just want to be me. I ripped off my hoodie and threw it to the ground. The me before all this pain. Off came my shirt. The me before cancer and a breaking-down body. I tore off my sports bra and threw it at the mirror.
I want to be the me before stupid neck injections. I fumbled with my shoe laces through teared-up eyes. The me before all this pain. I wiped my face with the back of hand and kicked my shoes into the closet - the one my where my husband had found me passed out, half-naked just the night before because I'd taken an accidental extra dose. I think. I don't even know how it happened.
I just want to be the me I can't even remember anymore. I ripped off my yoga pants and stood there naked in front of the mirror. Sobbing. I leaned forward, both hands on the counter and stared myself down. I can't do this anymore! I. HATE. THIS.
I stood there wishing I could shed my skin, my bones, my everything--just rip out the offending bits and pieces and somehow mend myself back to who I used to be.
But there is no going back, and there is no escaping. These parts, they're here with me forever. There is only acceptance and plowing through. So I will sit here with my puffy eyes and I will figure it out. Because what else can you do?