pain, entry 3
Still hurts. Still bad. Still upset. Still angry. Don't know how it happened. I want it to stop. I can't walk. The only way I can make it look somewhat normal is with a bastardized version of a catwalk stride. One foot directly in front of the other, limp to the left, right foot splayed out with toes pointed sideways. I'm exahusted. All I did was walk three blocks and I want to collapse. It hurts. I'm shaking. Microspasms in the muscles. Spastic overload.
Hell.
I won't cry.
Shit happens. I'll work with it. I work through it.
I will let it pass through me.
Or it will consume.
My husband is sick. He has a cold, maybe something more. And all I can do is talk to him over the phone and the miles, and worry.
I am eating only because I need to, but I am making sure each meal is balanced with plenty of calories. I have to. I'm unable to eat breakfast without feeling sick.
I want to shatter something, break something against a wall, and scream and scream.
Hell.
I won't cry.
Shit happens. I'll work with it. I work through it.
I will let it pass through me.
Or it will consume.
My husband is sick. He has a cold, maybe something more. And all I can do is talk to him over the phone and the miles, and worry.
I am eating only because I need to, but I am making sure each meal is balanced with plenty of calories. I have to. I'm unable to eat breakfast without feeling sick.
I want to shatter something, break something against a wall, and scream and scream.