Everything I need to Know

     Three weeks.  High humidity.  Arthritis flare-ups.  Pain.

I can't shake it.  Rarely do my bouts last this long anymore, but I seem to be headed for a fourth week.  

     Missouri's odd weather changes are at fault, aggravating my advanced arthritis.  Self motivation has come naturally for me, but since our car crash, working at it has become a full time job. 

     Only having troubles when the pain wears on me for long periods of time, like now, does my spirit damper some.  Last evening, I told my husband that I didn't know how much longer I could do this.  

     Most days I live, some days, I survive. 

     Surviving the last three weeks has become burdensome.  Each day I have to prove I am stronger than my pain.  Each day I must motivate mentally and emotionally or I will not survive. 

     My dear friend gifted me a book last summer.  Initially scanning through it, I thought this is exactly the type of book she would give me.  I did not read it front to back, but read the next page as I felt the urge.  Each one liner was a lesson, a lesson I needed on that particular day. 

     The past three weeks has prompted me to re-read it and I have read the chapters from cover to cover. 

Everything I Need to Know I Learned from a Little Golden Book

     Do you remember that little book from your childhood?  They have one for adults and we all need to read it from time to time.  Simplicity.  Simple words that we should all live by.  Life lessons that make ours easier to live by, if we would just do it. 

     Permissions that we do not allow ourselves, small motivational one liners that move us to a better place and give us the strength we already know exists inside of us. 

     I look for daily motivation everywhere and every chance I get, because I don't deny that I need it.  Some days more than others, in this case some weeks more than others.  

     This book tells me it's okay to take a day off due to my pain and not feel guilty about it.  It tells me it's okay to do something fun even if I don't have all of my chores accomplished.  These words tell me it's okay to have a down day, but to get up the next with vigor.  Or that it's okay if it takes more than one day. 

    It says, Don't Give Up.

     

Nightmare on Route 66

     Nightmares. 

      "Do I have them?", is a typical question from inquisitive minds.

     Truthfully, in the four years of my recovery, dreaming of the collision is not a frequent occurrence.  Recalling only a handful of night visions during this season of turmoil is frequent enough for myself.  Each session of my subconscious was emotionally exhausting, but oddly, only my first illusion was an authentic nightmare.

     Nearing three months of my husband and I slumbering in our living room, I introduced the idea of seeking out our bedroom.  Although we held hands between my hospital bed and the sofa, we had not slept beside each other since the collision.  He was beginning to ambulate in an odd fashion as the support from our old couch gave way.  

     Wheeling myself to his side of the bed, because that is the only place my chariot could fit, we quickly realized the bed was too high for my weakened arms to lift my delicate structure up efficiently.  Every action was slow and calculated because every action caused intense pain.  My body was seized into a chair pose, even in the hospital bed.  Positioning my legs to lie above the level of my heart was crucial and I had no tolerance to lie flat on my back.  Twenty-four hours a day, I pushed the buttons on the remote to position the mattress to conform to my tattered body.  Stacking pillows below my legs and upper body we finally lay beside each other.  I smiled back at my husband even though it felt as if I were laying on a stack of plywood.   He lay so close to me, almost as if he were afraid I would disappear if he did not.  After fidgeting with slipping pillows we fell asleep connected by intertwined fingers.  

     Promptly I was launched into a nightmare that reproduced itself unceasingly.  Never-ending it seemed.  The identical three seconds that is the root of my terror during the impact of our vehicles colliding, replayed incessantly in my imagination.  

       A  truck, popping over a small hill, rounding the corner, careening toward us.   I, watching as it's body leaned around the curve and it's tires tried desperately to grasp the pavement.   Crossing the center line, forcefully blocking our paths.  

 It was flying, literally flying!   Whipping back and forth across the yellow lines.  Back and forth, it was erratic.   Good Lord, it's not going to stop!  Panic was coursing through my entire body, creating violent tremors, my mind was screaming in hysteria !  This was happening so fast!   "No!" my mind roared, "No!"   It's too close, we're going to die.

 Enormous round lights, blinded my vision with complete whiteness.   They are in my face!    I screamed so loud my lungs burned,   "Oh My God!!!"

     Again, again, again, again and AGAIN!  Stop! 

      Fifty? Seventy-five times this horror cascaded itself upon me.  Waking in hysteria, my body had reacted as if I had just lived through the impact again.  Finding myself in my home, I felt droplets of sweat running down my skin as I released the sheets of my grip.  They were wet.  Reaching up to my stomach, my shirt was literally soaked with perspiration.  Beating like a war drum in my throat was my anguished heart.  My body was petrified in panic as I pried each one of my shoulders from the hardness  of the mattress.  Slowing my breath, afraid I was hyperventilating, I clutched at reality.

  I know where I am.  I know I am okay.  I know it was a dream.   Steadying my wild eyes to focus, I inhaled and exhaled deeply until twenty minutes later I felt myself drifting into a slumber.

    

A G A I N!!! 

     Immediately catapulted into another fifty episodes of the insanity of the same three seconds that had just molested me, my subconscious stole my sleep until morning light.  Having done nothing but lie in bed for seven hours, I was absolutely exhausted.  Physically and emotionally.  

     I only wanted for my pain to end.  Emotional pain.  My heart ached from it, my mind was consumed by it and my spirit fought diligently against it.  

     Although those same three seconds enter my mind often, that dream has never invaded my sleep since.  It is a horrible scene to translate, but it has taught me to not be afraid to live.  Now I have chosen to use it for a better purpose.

To intentionally inspire others to live each day 

as if it had just begun.

    

Enduring Pain: See it, Say it, Believe It!

     Pain has a way of tearing you down to your most vulnerable self.  Whether it be physical pain, mental or emotional pain.  When it hits, it usually hits hard.   Slowly slithering it's way into your body or mind and then slamming you to your very core.

     When my husband would arrive home and view a new inspirational quote on the wall, he could positively assume his wife was in need of extra motivation.  The first two years of recovery were a toss up between physical, mental and emotional pain as I experienced all three at once.  This last year though he could guess that I mostly suffered from a physical pain.  


     Although my pain is greatly decreased since those terrible days of the first year, I have pain from surgery and pain that will live with me til the end of my days.  One such day happened this past Tuesday.  I blame it on this winter weather. 

      Too cold, for too long, for too many days.

     My arthritis is in "end stage".  It cannot get any worse unless my bones just fall apart.  No hot whirlpool bath, ice packs or pleading would ease this deep-seated ache that bore it's way into my bones. 

     I reverted to a technique that I used frequently during those first two years.   A form of meditation, I would guess.  I would recite quotes over and over and over.  I have them everywhere.  On my walls, in my closet, in my drawers, on my phone.  Everywhere a reminder of how fortunate I am and that I will always endure and defeat what is challenging me.

     Literally speaking, I must see the quote to remind myself to concentrate.  Recite it in my head, again and again.  When the pain is at it's worse, that is just not enough.  I must say it.  I must say it out loud.  I must say it with conviction!  "I WILL BE OK!"  It doesn't work unless you strip everything away.  Give your whole heart, mind and soul into Believing It.  But sometimes and there have been times, that the pain encompasses me to the point that I can only whisper, " God grant me the strength to keep fighting."  And when the pain threatens to pull me into it's darkness, I let my tears fall, unashamed, because when we cannot speak, God observes our tears as prayers too.

     My point being is that all pain is pain.  All pain hurts.  All pain tears you down.  We must find our inspiration to fight through the challenges in our life from any source we can.  If you do not have support, you must inspire yourself.  

     I bare my soul not only to heal, but now I understand I need let others in pain 'See' that it can be accomplished.  Hear the words I 'Say' to be true and 'Believe' it because I am still here, standing proudly.