An aftermath.
A year ago today I got surgery on my knee, and a week later I found out I couldn't walk by myself for the next 5 months (it turned out to be 8). The first two months I fell into depression, lost weight -and gained it back after I started to feel better emotionally-, developed an aversion towards water because it was so difficult to bathe and began to lose myself in my own mind and to feel sorry for myself.
The physical therapy I had to do in order to be mobile again were extremely painful: more than once I ended up screaming when trying to bend my knee. My hands were filled with calluses and in the flesh when I used them to crawl on the floor, just because I was tired of crutches and didn't want to ask for more help. Funnily enough, I was never too vocal about my pain, at least on social media. Why? Thinking about it, from the first moment I knew I wasn't looking for compassion or pity from anyone. It was a very intimate process, and my pain was mine: just as control over my body (or lack of, based on past decisions), I didn't want anyone to interfere. My legs, as they became useless, also morphed into being the center of my life during that time: they had a life of their own, all while taking me to the edge of madness. I have never cried so much for something I saw as insurmountable, and little by little I was wallowing in my own despair. This leads to another point: how did I get out of that state and try to go back to normal (if there is anything such as normalcy).
You can't wake up one day and magically decide you're going to overcome depression. Getting my mind back was something far more complicated and it still isn't over, even though I've gone through something similar twice before (Again, not vocal about this before either. It isn't part of my nature to ask for help in order to overcome a mental what-deficiency? illness? first world sickness?).
As time went by and I understood nobody was going to get me out of that mental shithole but myself, I quit being such a baby. I stopped calling people to ask them to come visit and I stopped being part of that social world: I understood the solution to a lot of things is not out, but in. That made me stronger and thus, I began to sever ties with people I thought were better than, but ended up being less.
Disclaimer: I'm not holding grudges, and I don't want to blame anyone. This is something that happened to me and only after a year have I been able to understand a lot of things: I may not say them in the best manner and this is why I'm asking for forgiveness in advance. Believe me, there are very few people who deserve my hate...people who don't pay the bus ticket, animal abusers and the like. End of the disclaimer.
Even though it may sound ugly, I understood you create connections with people, but you're not indispensable for anyone's life. During the months I didn't have contact with the outside world, I wasn't necessary. People still had birthdays and got married and drank and nothing wrong happened if I wasn't there: I may have been missed, but the world didn't stop for that reason and that's fine. I came back to life slowly: I travled and went to concerts and spoke in other languages. I've danced a little and laughed again. However, there is something that broke completely (and that was already broken long before): my heart turned to stone. That's my fault entirely. If you'd like to know why, feel free to ask in the comments below.
It would be wrong of me to not be grateful. To everyone that listened to me, wrote comforting words and paid me a visit, who tried to keep a bond strong. Thank you for making me part of a world I had no intention to belong to. I also thank those who moved on with their lives and to the people who are no longer a part of me: it is truly the only thing we can do, to keep living. You taught me to be stronger, to move one and to know there is only one person in this world you can explain things you do to: yourself. You're in my hearts.
Current mood: Hiro’s Theme, part 1. The Edge w/Michael Brook, OST Captive.
The physical therapy I had to do in order to be mobile again were extremely painful: more than once I ended up screaming when trying to bend my knee. My hands were filled with calluses and in the flesh when I used them to crawl on the floor, just because I was tired of crutches and didn't want to ask for more help. Funnily enough, I was never too vocal about my pain, at least on social media. Why? Thinking about it, from the first moment I knew I wasn't looking for compassion or pity from anyone. It was a very intimate process, and my pain was mine: just as control over my body (or lack of, based on past decisions), I didn't want anyone to interfere. My legs, as they became useless, also morphed into being the center of my life during that time: they had a life of their own, all while taking me to the edge of madness. I have never cried so much for something I saw as insurmountable, and little by little I was wallowing in my own despair. This leads to another point: how did I get out of that state and try to go back to normal (if there is anything such as normalcy).
You can't wake up one day and magically decide you're going to overcome depression. Getting my mind back was something far more complicated and it still isn't over, even though I've gone through something similar twice before (Again, not vocal about this before either. It isn't part of my nature to ask for help in order to overcome a mental what-deficiency? illness? first world sickness?).
As time went by and I understood nobody was going to get me out of that mental shithole but myself, I quit being such a baby. I stopped calling people to ask them to come visit and I stopped being part of that social world: I understood the solution to a lot of things is not out, but in. That made me stronger and thus, I began to sever ties with people I thought were better than, but ended up being less.
Disclaimer: I'm not holding grudges, and I don't want to blame anyone. This is something that happened to me and only after a year have I been able to understand a lot of things: I may not say them in the best manner and this is why I'm asking for forgiveness in advance. Believe me, there are very few people who deserve my hate...people who don't pay the bus ticket, animal abusers and the like. End of the disclaimer.
Even though it may sound ugly, I understood you create connections with people, but you're not indispensable for anyone's life. During the months I didn't have contact with the outside world, I wasn't necessary. People still had birthdays and got married and drank and nothing wrong happened if I wasn't there: I may have been missed, but the world didn't stop for that reason and that's fine. I came back to life slowly: I travled and went to concerts and spoke in other languages. I've danced a little and laughed again. However, there is something that broke completely (and that was already broken long before): my heart turned to stone. That's my fault entirely. If you'd like to know why, feel free to ask in the comments below.
It would be wrong of me to not be grateful. To everyone that listened to me, wrote comforting words and paid me a visit, who tried to keep a bond strong. Thank you for making me part of a world I had no intention to belong to. I also thank those who moved on with their lives and to the people who are no longer a part of me: it is truly the only thing we can do, to keep living. You taught me to be stronger, to move one and to know there is only one person in this world you can explain things you do to: yourself. You're in my hearts.
Current mood: Hiro’s Theme, part 1. The Edge w/Michael Brook, OST Captive.
entrada de Claudette a las
13:36
0 comentarios:
Publicar un comentario
Suscribirse a Enviar comentarios [Atom]
<< Inicio