Hindsight is Twenty, Twenty

I should not have walked the combined square footage of three stores in between physical therapy appointments. I should have spaced out the trips. The trouble is my wedding is two weeks away and my groom just decided what the boys were wearing this weekend. All that walking and then home empty handed mid-week, but the weekend was worse.

I should have rested before the baby shower. I should not have run errands first. I certainly should not have gone to the mall afterward! I was so disappointed about not finding anything during the week I made some not great choices. Isaac wears a size 8 and he needs brown dress pants. I checked online, Target, Kohls and Ross, Nada. Apparently, little boys ONLY wear black or navy dress pants EVER. Also, brown pants were plentiful in toddler sizes and mens sizes so that's the only age window it isn't done I guess. I shall have to file a grievance with the prepubescent boys union about this.

Aside from Isaac's pants, he's a groomsman, I needed to see if the shirt I liked for Mike was available in store to save us the $10 shipping and I needed shoes to get married in. Now, I escaped without kids having had Mike load the wheelchair into the back of my station wagon for me. I never go to the mall on weekends I always go early on weekdays. There's a good reason for that. Not only was every handicapped space gone, but every space near the store I wanted in general. I should have thought about what that crowded of a parking lot meant and gone home.

I got a descent space, used my crutches to get to the back of the car and then pulled on my wheelchair until it kind of fell out. I left my crutches in the back and wheeled in to Macy's (I should also mention I really hate department store). They did not have the shirt in the color I needed for Mike. They had a similar one (also on sale), but it wasn't in the size he told me. I pondered that and called him to discuss while I searched the boys department. Mike told me to get the size smaller shirt.

LOOOOOOOOOONG story short, that was all I came home with. There were no brown pants in Isaac's size. I found several shoe options, but none in my size/the right color. It was a bust. I dragged my tired butt back to the car after those fruitless hours of searching and could not remember how I'd been able to load my wheelchair up by myself before. I took my crutches out of the back, folded up the wheelchair and then made several comical attempts to put it in. Basically, I have to tip it back in a giant wheelie until the front wheels are in the car. Then I have to reposition (and brace) myself so I can push it up it enough force to get it in. Once it's standing up in the back I just tug it until it's on it's side and shut the door.

I got home beyond tired to discover the shirt didn't fit Mike at all. It has to be returned. I just put all the cardboard and pins in a bag because I have no idea how to redo them. He also got the wrong size bathing suit at Target earlier in the day so that has to go back. It gets better. I went to order my plan b shoe choice online and it was sold out!

It was so stressful. I did order Isaac the only pair of brown dress pants in his size in all of creation. They better fit. Other than that I busted my butt on minimal sleep (been having nightmares)for almost nothing!

A Little Honest Emotion on the Subject

Please, don't be angry at me for not asking for help. It's not in my nature. I fear giving power to the pain and hopelessness by naming it. Please listen when I come to you calmly asking for a hand. That is my desperate plea. You will not see me crack until the damn breaks. It is the only time I allow that awful "weakness" its sway. I can only breath in and out and put one foot in front of the other this way.

When the bus hit me I got one single get well card and last year, when I was the most helpless I have ever been and trying to take care of a baby...It was horrible and lonely. It was an almost stranger who came most often. I saw people once or twice until I was well enough to leave. Most of my relationships remain distant. Did I ask for help? I remember it, but maybe none of them understood the horror I was desperately navigating mostly alone.

I wish I knew where I go wrong. When to stop calmly asking and start tearfully begging. I am so tired, still, always. I don't know how to fix what I so clearly had a part in breaking. I won't allow myself to EVER be as lost and alone as I was after that horrible surgery. Trapped in the house on the couch with a baby crawling around my feet for months. I wanted to "bounce back". I had no frame of reference. I had so little.

Maybe shortly after the halfway point is a good time for catharsis of all the toxic emotions I refused to accept. I still hate all the anger, frustration, fear and guilt so much. I hate that I did that to myself on purpose, to my family.

I hate the recovery process, surgical solutions, sleep deprivation, depression, severe weight loss and the pain. The pain that motivated me to make that choice. The pain that was a result of that choice. The daily pain I don't speak of in hopes that one day it won't be there.

I wish I could have gone into that spinal fusion with knowledge I now possess. I wish I could go back and not get hit by the bus. My time machine would be well worn and I'd probably blink myself out of existence.