Thursday, January 6, 2011

A Relapse of Sorts

My father told me more than once that no one really want to hear about all of our aches and pains.  In so many ways, he was absolutely right.  On the other hand, those words and the idea that we must always put our best face forward can be a trap that can ensnare us and keep us from being authentic.  Authenticity is important if one is to be a writer and if one is to be true to one's self.

I've had a relapse that has shocked me and caused me to take stock all over again about how devastating the loss of my daughter has been to me.  My therapist, yes, I've been seeing one for help with my loss, said she was not surprised at my new feelings of loss and sorrow.  I was doing too well she said not for her to expect it.

And so, Christmas set me back, way back.  Along with the waves of sorrow, I've also suffered physical pain.  Since about December 21, I have had excruciating pain in my upper left quadrant of my back.  I've been under the care of my doctor, a chiropractor, a physical therapist, and a massage therapist.  I am going for my fifth massage in the past three weeks in just a few minutes.  Massage and heat help me the most.  Hopefully, we will soon find out what is causing this terrible pain.  Fibromyalgia has been suggested, but there is no diagnosis.  I am schedule to have MRI tests next week.

I hesitate to post this because of those old voices in the head about keeping our pain to ourselves, but if I am to record this journey that I am on honestly, I need to write about what trials I am going through.  Sympathy is not what one in my situation needs.  Support is what is needed.  I know that I have that, and for that I am grateful.
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