My second meet at the support group was pathetic. They asked me about what good had happened in the past week. I didn’t have much to say, the week had been horrible. They asked me about the bad stuff and I had a lot of it, so I filtered and talked only about the worse things.
I wasn’t feeling very comfortable talking. I had snoozed my alarm 5 times in the morning, because I didn’t feel like going. While I was there, I felt like running away. In the end of the session that day, no one hugged no one. I’m glad we didn’t, because I was in no mood for human touch. It took me a week to finally write this post; so you get the drift about how bad it really was.
But what really hit home, and what I took from this session is this.
When I was young, I was very athletic. You could see me playing some sport all the time. I was a heathy teenager as I grew, with a somewhat athletic body. Toned legs, strong arms and good at back exercises.
Last week, one day while I was lying down, I got locked in one position. There had been some pain in my back and chest for a while now, but I was ignoring it; accounting it to stress. But this, I couldn’t ignore. I was on a call with a friend, and she started panicking. I asked her not to panic, lay straight and kept talking to her as if everything was normal. As if, it didn’t feel like my rib cage would explode if I moved. As if, every breath did not pain me. I lay straight.
I admitted it to the group that Sunday and I’m gonna admit it to you now. I am not a heathy person anymore. My body is not athletic. I tire easy. Little stress leads to headaches. And if I skip sleep some day, my body aches the next day.
And now I’ve decided, this isn’t the way I wanna be. I like it better when I don’t go breathless every time I climb six floors of stairs to reach my floor. I like it better, when I feel heathy.