If you had been here

Inspired (again) by Carole’s post about her good weekend, here’s my post on this past week:

If you had been with me this past week…

You’d have sat beside my bed for a long time, as that is where I’ve spent most of it since I left work on Thursday lunchtime with a sore throat, feeling achy. The virus I think I caught from Peanut wasn’t happy with just giving me the normal flu symptoms, it moved into a stomach flu too, we’ll just leave it at that.

If you had been with me this past week…

You’d have seen how disappointed I was to not run/walk with my colleagues on The Color Run on Sunday, I felt like I was letting them down by not joining them.

If you had been with me this past week…

You’d have come with me to the doctors on Monday morning to be told that I wasn’t able to go back to work until Wednesday. You’d have felt my dismay as the recognition that all my leave was now gone; annual and sick leave, any residual RDOs – with six months of the financial year to go.

If you had been with me this past week…

On Tuesday you’d have seen me sitting on the floor of our home office, trying to catch up on a couple of months’ worths of paperwork while I had a day at home. You might have caught me as I fell when my left knee popped and locked in place as I stood up; or you may have reminded me to not get up too quickly because I was too busy rushing to the next thing on my to-do list.

Mum sat with me as we waited for help: I made three phone calls, Hubs, an ambulance and Manny to help Mum with Peanut. The ride in the ambulance was nothing out of the ordinary; the crew were sweet, attentive and understanding – laughing with me as I felt such an idiot. Then we went round a roundabout, my leg shifted and I was screaming in pain, I’d gone from a 4 out of 10, to a 9 out of 10 in seconds. X-rays revealed I’d not broken anything, it was soft-tissue damage, but what damage?

If you had been with me this past week…

You would have laughed at me slurring my words as the pain relief knocked me out for hours at a time, vivid rock and roll dreams that are lingering still, half awake/asleep dreams that caused me to lose a day of the week.

After sitting up in bed and eating dinner on Wednesday night, I stretched to try to reach a book, my leg that was splinted into straightness rotated and something popped back. Frabjous joy, I could bend and straighten my knee again, Thursday morning I was able to walk, albeit slowly, painfully and with a stick. Better than the crutches on which I felt like as ungainly as an angry flamingo trying to shoo a wasp away.

If you had been with me this past week…

You’d have watched me sigh over and over, long and deep with frustration and worry. Worried about work; not being in the office as I had gastro, to get better; then not being in the office because of my leg; offering to come back in when I could walk, but not hearing anything for hours.

Trying to remind myself that I am enough, just me, that I don’t need to be validated all the time on what I contribute or bring, but still wondering ‘Why?’ on so many things. Wondering if the cloud that is hanging around me is only because I’m worried, again, that I may lose my job after having six and a half business days away from my desk, after taking a weeks’ leave earlier this month? Or is it Rufus appearing, lolloping towards me to visit? Wondering why do I check in with people, but so many don’t reciprocate? My mind whirring into overtime, stalking Facebook from my bed, reading too much into things, or too little.

My instinct is to close down, barriers up, because what’s the point? But then my silence is perceived as stand-offish behaviour, not seen as self preservation. I shut down and back off to protect my wounded heart; only letting people in who’ve known me for years, and even then with difficulty. I don’t want to go backwards, I want to stay open, honest, to be able to ask for help when I need help, but my mind is telling me that I’m worthless and my heart is starting to believe it.

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