Friday, June 26, 2015
One day my foot started hurting. It hurt bad. Real bad. Walking hurt. Standing hurt.
But I had to do things so I dealt with it.
When I mentioned it, the doctors couldn't find anything wrong. Suggested physical therapy. That didn't do anything. It came and went and I kept talking about it. I kept dealing with it. Did searches on the Internet for it. Asked other folks about it. Dealt with it. It After a while, people didn't want to hear about my foot anymore. I stopped talking about it. I kept dealing with it.
Then one day my knees began hurting. Stairs were a bitch. Pain on the inside, outside and anytime I bent them. You know you bend your knees when you walk, right? I told my family and they were concerned. I told my doctor and they couldn't find anything wrong, really, and sent me to physical therapy. The inside/outside pain kept happening. I pushed through at PT and dealt with it. pT didn't help. The pain continued. I told my family that my knees and foot hurt. They weren't so concerned. Some said I was looking for attention. I didn't say anything else. The pain continued. I dealt with it.
Later, when I would be tired, I was told to go to bed earlier, drink less coffee and more water. I tried but babies don't like that schedule and I got headaches from lack of caffeine. And I was tired. Always tired. I disagreed and was called argumentative. What do I know about my own body? Some called me a hypochondriac. I just kept it to myself. I made excuses for my naps and tried harder to get things done when I had energy. It made me more tired. My foot and knees hurt. I dealt with it.
Someone told me the gym gives you energy. Would help me lose weight, help my knees, help my foot. All that weight. My joints weren't meant for this weight, they said. I heard them call me fat and I wanted to argue but didn't want to be argumentative. And when I looked in the mirror I thought, "Well maybe I am too heavy. Maybe they're right". At night when I went to bed I would think about saying something but I didn't want to seem whiny, so I kept it to myself. I dealt with it.
I got up every day. I made lunches and ran errands and watered plants. I did laundry and mopped floors. I vacuumed. I vacuumed again. I walked dogs and I stayed up late doing dishes. I went to the gym and I rode a bicycle. I weeded garden beds. I played with a toddler. I took Tylenol. I ignored the pain. There was no reason for me to have it, other than being too heavy, and maybe I wasn't going to the gym enough - you know because I didn't have enough energy. I dealt with it every day. I heard that I was complaining a lot. I heard that I was not fat. I heard go to the gym, eat less, eat more meat, eat more vegetables, eat less vegetables. I did what I could. I stopped arguing and I dealt with what I could. I ignored the pain and pushed through the exhaustion. The fog. The fuzzy brain.
I dealt with it by taking more Tylenol, drinking more coffee and eating antacids. By exercising like a fiend, by not eating. My knees hurt worse, my foot never stopped hurting, and I'm so much more exhausted. Some days I can't retain a thought for more than a few minutes. I "fuzz out". I try but some days it hurts too much.
I work out and don't eat enough and don't lose a pound. I made myself sick. The doctors just told me to eat more and work out less. I said nothing. I don't want to be argumentative. I don't want people to think I'm making it up. I've begun to wonder if maybe I am? I wonder if I did this to myself? If it's my fault, if this just my life?
I deal with these questions every night after I take something for pain and try to sleep but can't. I wonder if today is the day I find something on the Internet that isn't just my fatness, lack of exercise and/or imagination.
I think about the back spasms that I've said nothing about and the semi constant headache I have. I think about how occasionally I feel good and have no ache's and pains and wonder if I'm just losing my mind. If I'm just "getting old". I look around at other people and I wonder if they are silent too, and that this is normal. Maybe that's why people think I'm making it up or want attention, because they are this way too?
I hurt and don't know why. I say nothing and I deal with it. When I am asked why I say nothing I tell them, and I'm told that's foolish. If I tell
them what's going on they gloss over and look doubtful.
This is my life. I hurt. I deal with it. I don't say anything.
This is my life.
Monday, June 1, 2015
To all of you who get offended when you see a mom breastfeeding in public without a cover, I have a question:
WHY DOES IT COME DOWN TO HOW I BEHAVE THAT DETERMINES YOUR ACTIONS?
If I were strangling puppies, punching cats, having sex in public, peeing/defecating on the street, or masturbating in public then I would expect outrage because all are illegal, some are terrible and cruel, and three can spread diseases like E. coli, and STDs like HIV.
Breastfeeding is not illegal.
It is not cruel and terrible.
It is not sexual.
It does not spread an STD or any other disease.
I am not spraying it on anything. I am not pouring it out down an alley. I am not killing anything. I am not having sex with my child, masturbating with my child, or urinating or defecating with my child.
I am doing the opposite. I am nourishing, bonding, and loving my child. I am giving my child his food.
Whether a mom chooses to cover or not, bottle feed or not, is none of your concern. If you don't want your children seeing me, and if your partner/husband/wife lacks enough self control that seeing breasts turns them into a rape machine - then I suggest you NOT point me out to your delicate children and philandering partner because - and hear me on this one -
I am not responsible for yours, your partners, or your children's actions or feelings.
So I will continue to breastfeed, whenever, however, and wherever I'm legally allowed to be.
And to all you formula moms, covering moms, & pump n feed moms - you kick ass too! Don't let anyone make you feel bad for doing what you feel is best for your family.