Lucky

I’m stuck at home with the dog. It’s hard for me to go out except to take her for a walk because I feel like I’m not walking out alone (which is actually the case – I have my dog with me).

Those dreams haunt me every night: I’m a college student but I fail at everything and my schoolmates are harsh with me. In real life, I obtained my Degrees. Or I’m at work and I’m overwhelmed by the red tape. In real life I’m still on sick leave.

I’ve had panic attacks again.

And also, I keep thinking about “my downfall”. What if I had remained disabled? What if I was very badly handicaped? I mean not only being unable to walk, but even worse!

I have always said my life was shitty, at least since I was 12, but nowaday I surprise myself thinking – and believing! – that I am so lucky.

My back hurts once in a while and my right groin is painful when I cross my legs or lifts my right leg to get in the car. But I’m fine. Really. I’m lucky.

Good news

After agonizing about my friend’s health whilst not getting any contact with her, I eventually managed to join her on the phone yesterday. She’s entered a new medical protocol that seems to have been working so far, so fingers crossed.

As for me I’m getting in touch with friends again: my BFF and I met in my hometown a few days ago and on thursday a girl friend I met like 10 years ago on the WWW who I haven’t seen for a while is coming with her boyfriend.

fuckcancer

Why her?

I just learned yesterday that one of my best friends has cancer.

I took the taxi right after I heard the news to meet her (1h30 trip) , could only stay 30 mn before I went back home in a taxi as well, thus spending 600 euros in a day. For a 30 mn meeting. I regret nothing. She looked so fragile, I was so sad, I hugged her and told her to take all the light she needs from me.

I made this for her:

angel4karine

I’ve been through a lot…so have many other people.

2014-12-05 11.40.07 Strangely, my long, deep, severe depression from the age of 12 till the age of 24 was something I had eventually accepted, forgiven to life/God/fortune/whatever and I no longer considered myself as a victim.

Then I had to go through another ordeal at the age of 30 (see My work burn out story) and it took me a long time to accept the physical and mental pain I went through.

Then I looked around me, and more specifically on the World Wide Web. People with disabilities that cause them pain 24/7 but who still smile and have hobbies and do stuff with friends. People with the worst mental illnesses (severe anorexia, schizophrenia…). People in a wheelchair not for 3 months and a half like I was, but for the rest of their life. And on TV: migrants who risked their lives and are now living in the worst sanitary conditions in my own country.

So I have started to accept that the excruciating ordeal I have been through happened and will always be a part of my already chaotic difficult existence. And I’m ready to go on with this past experience included in my life.

I may cry and complain and feel sorry to myself once in a while. But I will keep on living.

Physiotherapy

I obtained more sessions with Mr Handsome.

I wasn’t expecting it, but when I had a physical examination by an expert (for the Company insurance) he told me that my right arm, that I can’t stretch fully, could gain extending with physiotherapy. Now, I remember the manipulation of the arm was something quite painful. But the joy of seeing Mr Handsome again will be much stronger than the pain.

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Life

I’ve been going to bed early and waking up late these days.

Not that I’m particularily depressed. I need sleep. I will undergo another blood test in a few weeks. This time not on an empty stomach. Phew!

Tomorrow I meet an orthopaedist to determine how disabled I am physically speaking. My hip replacement allows me to do almost everything I want, my favourite type of exercising being walking, but I also like using the stepper to shape my body. My right arm works fine, but I’m not sure what restrictions will be set regarding lifting objects, how much weight it can lift, how many times, for how long…

Never gonna be the same

I keep repeating : “there’s been a before and an after“.

Before I completely cracked up at work, got very sick physically and mentally, despite all I had been through before (long, severe depression and anxieties w/ panick attacks for years) I felt like I wasn’t eventually broken.

I had forgiven myself and the Universe/God/whatever for the suffering. But that was before.

Now I am broken both mentally and physically (I have a hip replacement and my right elbow’s scar is just starting to heal). This doesn’t mean that my life is fucked up. Despite all the terrible ordeals (peeing every 5 min for almost a year in a row, this causing terrible insomnias and eventually my jumping from the top of a staircase for God’ sake!) I believe I can take a new start. But there is a trauma, and I am not sure this will totally be healed.