Healing?

I want to get this down quickly. I own this, but I can't live here. I'll come back later and clean up. This is where I am right now....

Have you ever been sick, and not realized how sick, until you started to feel better? When you're in extreme pain, you know what steps to take. Ease the pain, take the ibuprofen, lots of it, all the time. You start to heal, and you don't expect to be limited. Let's run with the example of physical pain. You've hurt you're back. You can barely breath for the pain. So you go to the doctor, get the muscle relaxants, and walk around in a blissful stupor, not feeling the injury. You're in shock. Time passes and now you're in physical therapy. You have goals, you're actively working at your recuperation, you see progress, you feel the pain. Once done with therapy, everything looks normal, but there's still that dull ache. You don't acknowledge it all the time, but there's a stiffness. You aren't what you used to be. You move differently, gingerly, to protect the sensitive part. You're conscious of the injury, but no one else would notice it.

I've had a series of emotional train wrecks and beatings. My heart is broken, shredded, crushed. My soul's been slashed. My mind's been bruised, a freaking hematoma. When the injuries occurred, I took the steps I needed to survive. I clung to the people who loved me and trusted their wisdom, I focused on my grandsons (pain killers). Then I talked, and talked, and talked with my Daughter, we read, and read, and read for understanding (physical therapy). Now things are quiet, and I'm realizing that this has affected me in subtle ways.

Tall One is a loving man. His greatest characteristic is that he loves me. He wants the best for me, always. He's my friend and confidant. He's been hurt, too, deeply. He's walked through all this with me.Yet, lately he is like cloth on a brush burn. I want him with me, to comfort and soothe, like I'd want the dressing changed on a cut so that it will heal cleanly and with minimal scarring, but because I'm afraid it will hurt, and because I don't have the strength for the pain, I keep slapping away the hands that would help. I'm irritated by him. It's the annoying itch as the wounds start to heal. Scratch it and you open them again. There is nothing he can do to alleviate this. He isn't doing anything wrong or differently.

I'm exhausted with talking. With Daughter, I think I'm making sympathetic sounds, and possibly sense, but there's a screaming echo inside my head, and I'm numb. Even small talk with friends, everyday issues with family, pleasantries, are physically difficult. It's the pain of recovery. I can't stop or my emotions will atrophy. I'm not strong enough to facilitate complete recovery by myself. I need to communicate, to endure , to grow stronger again. I can't stand the noise, yet silence is worse.

I'm fulfilling my responsibilities. I'm not shutting anyone out. I'm not shutting down. But, everything is muffled and muted. I'm swathed in cotton. I'm still weak from the beatings. When I'm alone, I'm restless and anxious, I can't focus. But, being with others is brutal. One relationship, an important relationship, one I will always have even though trying, is especially irksome right now. And I need to be sympathetic, really, there are issues involved! The joy and delight in my grandsons is stifled. The physical and emotional energy isn't there. There are questions and concerns, little daily caring gestures, that I want to extend to family and friends, and I just don't think of them, or if I do, procrastinate. My motivation is unrecognized, or doubted.

This is not "unto death". Even with a cold, I take physical limitation personally. I don't imagine it's different with emotional virus's.

Ok, I've left to deal with the mundane, I've come back and finished feeling what I'm dealing with. I don't live here, but I do own this.