Today is one of those days where I throw up my hands and surrender to the fact that things are just not going to be comfortable. Pelvic "instability", my ass. (My physical therapist is an idiot.) I'm calling this, "My bones are floating apart in a strained and crunching fashion." Oh, and I love people telling me that I'm just being a wussy, that pregnancy isn't always comfortable, but that I could totally have more kids without any issues. Well, sure, if I can be suspended in warm water for 9 months, in a coma, fed through a tube. That sounds nice. I can do that. Anything else....NO. I'm done. I hurt. There is NO SOLUTION for my pain. I'm gonna pass on doing this again. I like walking, thank you very much.
I did too much this weekend. (Seems to be the story lately.) And doing too much means by normal standards, I did less than nothing. Really. So, not only am I stir-crazy, bored and in pain, but I also did nothing all weekend, and still get to pay the price for it.
I used to care for a horse that some rich girl left behind when she went to college. He was a big, beautiful and passionate animal, and was confined to a 10x10 stall all day, every day, because he was too aggressive to be turned out with other horses. So I took to exercising him before work every day, turning him loose in a huge arena to scream and run and kick and smash whatever he wanted. It was magical to see his energy explode every day. I feel like that horse, only I have no way of exploding, except through writing. I have found that talking about it is just too "aggressive" for others right now. Talking about it feels worse. So I don't. I wait.
I think that my pelvic problems are based on a lot of things, but one thing stands out the most. A horse fell on me when I was 14. I was dragged, kicked and smashed by a 1000 lb animal, and I never went to the hospital. I never used ice on my bruises. I never made a peep. I was scared my parents would sell my horse, my most precious acquisition, and so I never told anyone about it until years later, well after any damage that I had endured could be healed properly. I can still remember lying in the rain, feeling the raindrops hit my eyes as I stared up, wondering when I would start breathing again. I know that I have a fracture in my leg. I know that I twisted my right hip badly. But what happened to my pelvis? What happened to the connective tissue that hold what should be the strongest connections in your entire body together? Who knows? I suppose I could eventually get my pelvis bolted together someday. Why does that sound worse than letting it be?
I'm feeling sorry for myself. Gonna let it go for now. It's a moment in a series of moments that make up my lifeline. Move forward. I am as strong as I choose to be.