the case of the broad with the crap back.
Oct. 31st, 2016 09:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gfrancieMy anxiety has been way out of control for a few days. Sunday morning I didn't have enough time to go running in the morning, so I thought, "let's go outside. Maybe do a bit of work in the garden. That's calming." And it was. I cleared out a bed, turned the soil, ripped out some plants I have no use for, and felt really good. Then I went and had a look at the shade garden and did a bit of work. But all that bending over got me. See I bent over and stood up and suddenly things felt very very wrong. The kind of pain that explodes across one's lower back. I thought, "Ah. I must now stop." And then my bra stabbed me. The underwire popped out and fucking stabbed me. (and listen anyone who says, "oh don't use underwires..." shut the fuck up. You don't have my tits, I don't have your tits. My tits need those underwires thank you. I know my tits. So shut.the.fuck.up. I don't want to hear it. Not today.) and in the past couple of weeks my marks and spencer bras have all gone to the great lingerie store in the sky. I am down to a couple of bras. I need to buy more. But in that moment I was mostly thinking about my back.
I took some ibuprofen, went right up stairs and took a hot shower. But it didn't really help too much. Yeah. I fucked up my back. BUT I remember all the stuff I learned in physiotherapy. "Don't get into bed. Walk/stand as much as you can. Stretch. Don't go running." And I did as they said. But damn did so many muscles clench up. I was a walking giant seized muscle. I took more ibuprofen. (a fun thing I learned from my doctor, "yeah you can take a lot more of that stuff when you are in serious pain.")
I then took Miss Biscuit to her friend's place to play with her friend's pony. Always make friends with someone who has a pony. Her friend's parents have opened up a livery yard with a sand school. (look at me throwing around horse terms.) They have a number of horses and ponies that board with them, and people come and use the sand school. Miss Biscuit was in heaven. They got to brush Spice the pony. They got to feed the pony, and then they got to ride the pony. And then play in the den, make potions, and other little girl stuff. I had a lovely time chatting with the parents, drinking cups of tea, and walking around. It helped a bit. But I was fucking worn when I got home. I took a super hot bath and then a valium. (my tiny little stash that I guard like Smaug.) Sleep was okay. Turning in my sleep was something else. This morning it was hell getting up and moving around. But I did it. I did a lot of stretches to relieve the pressure here and there. My kids were total champs about helping me out. (as was Mr. Jenner)
I had to go into town to buy Miss Biscuit shoes, and pick up things for dinner. This wasn't something I could hand off to others. Senor Onion came along on the trip in case I needed to hold on to someone. It was some exquisite pain (even dosed up with so much ibuprofen. Yeah I spent the day edging with that stuff. Sure my intestines and liver are all, "wha???" but I was all, "cool it. Mama has shit to do.") at times. But we did grocery shopping, and shoe shopping in record time.
We came home and I took some codeine and ate some leftover stew. I did laundry, I tidied, I kept moving. And I was okay. I did have moments this morning where I thought, "Lord take me. I will never be anxious again."
There was a low moment (before I took codeine at lunch) when Senor Onion accidentally bumped a glass of water over and it went right into my handbag. I was just so overwhelmed. By everything. By every single thing in existence. But I was just too drained to cry. I wanted to cry. So much. Just sob about the state of the world, my back, the US elections, my handbag, my brain, the fact that Davie Bowie and Prince are still dead, that I can't find any canned (tinned) pumpkin locally, that I live in a country with a number of stupid people, and I am down to two bras.
I am going to get a bunch of bras this week. I did say to Mr. Jenner "THIS is why I spend good money on my bras. The ones that are still holding on like Wilson-Philips are the ones I spent good money on. Fuck Marks and Spencer."
Then we had all the cousins over, (and my sisters in law.) and that was a lot of fun. Pizza, kids running around everywhere, and sweets. We took the kids trick-or-treating. I was all bundled up (it was a gorgeous clear night) and all that walking up and down the lane really helped a bit. I was even able to hold my youngest nephew (a wiggly chunky two year old) for a couple of minutes. I felt like a bad-ass. (especially when lifting a pumpkin earlier was difficult.)
Everyone ended up with so many sweets.
I just need to keep moving, keep stretching, and keeping taking fun pain killers and it will get better.
Now I may eat a fun sized twix.
I took some ibuprofen, went right up stairs and took a hot shower. But it didn't really help too much. Yeah. I fucked up my back. BUT I remember all the stuff I learned in physiotherapy. "Don't get into bed. Walk/stand as much as you can. Stretch. Don't go running." And I did as they said. But damn did so many muscles clench up. I was a walking giant seized muscle. I took more ibuprofen. (a fun thing I learned from my doctor, "yeah you can take a lot more of that stuff when you are in serious pain.")
I then took Miss Biscuit to her friend's place to play with her friend's pony. Always make friends with someone who has a pony. Her friend's parents have opened up a livery yard with a sand school. (look at me throwing around horse terms.) They have a number of horses and ponies that board with them, and people come and use the sand school. Miss Biscuit was in heaven. They got to brush Spice the pony. They got to feed the pony, and then they got to ride the pony. And then play in the den, make potions, and other little girl stuff. I had a lovely time chatting with the parents, drinking cups of tea, and walking around. It helped a bit. But I was fucking worn when I got home. I took a super hot bath and then a valium. (my tiny little stash that I guard like Smaug.) Sleep was okay. Turning in my sleep was something else. This morning it was hell getting up and moving around. But I did it. I did a lot of stretches to relieve the pressure here and there. My kids were total champs about helping me out. (as was Mr. Jenner)
I had to go into town to buy Miss Biscuit shoes, and pick up things for dinner. This wasn't something I could hand off to others. Senor Onion came along on the trip in case I needed to hold on to someone. It was some exquisite pain (even dosed up with so much ibuprofen. Yeah I spent the day edging with that stuff. Sure my intestines and liver are all, "wha???" but I was all, "cool it. Mama has shit to do.") at times. But we did grocery shopping, and shoe shopping in record time.
We came home and I took some codeine and ate some leftover stew. I did laundry, I tidied, I kept moving. And I was okay. I did have moments this morning where I thought, "Lord take me. I will never be anxious again."
There was a low moment (before I took codeine at lunch) when Senor Onion accidentally bumped a glass of water over and it went right into my handbag. I was just so overwhelmed. By everything. By every single thing in existence. But I was just too drained to cry. I wanted to cry. So much. Just sob about the state of the world, my back, the US elections, my handbag, my brain, the fact that Davie Bowie and Prince are still dead, that I can't find any canned (tinned) pumpkin locally, that I live in a country with a number of stupid people, and I am down to two bras.
I am going to get a bunch of bras this week. I did say to Mr. Jenner "THIS is why I spend good money on my bras. The ones that are still holding on like Wilson-Philips are the ones I spent good money on. Fuck Marks and Spencer."
Then we had all the cousins over, (and my sisters in law.) and that was a lot of fun. Pizza, kids running around everywhere, and sweets. We took the kids trick-or-treating. I was all bundled up (it was a gorgeous clear night) and all that walking up and down the lane really helped a bit. I was even able to hold my youngest nephew (a wiggly chunky two year old) for a couple of minutes. I felt like a bad-ass. (especially when lifting a pumpkin earlier was difficult.)
Everyone ended up with so many sweets.
I just need to keep moving, keep stretching, and keeping taking fun pain killers and it will get better.
Now I may eat a fun sized twix.
