Today has not started out the best, as you could probably tell from my previous entry. To say it has become better would be an outright lie. It hasn’t.
Presently, I am sitting with a large ice pack on my lower back in an attempt to try an numb the pain I am feeling. I know it isn’t going to work, but I have no options to really aid me in this time of crazed leg twitching, I’m-going-to-scream, kind of pain.
After I woke up this morning my Dad called. Usually I am enthusiastic to hear from him. I miss him. I was so used to seeing him and talking to him daily before we moved. Since, I feel so alone. I left my best friend behind. Yes, I am Daddy’s little girl and am not ashamed to admit that at my age (32) that I’m still his
little Princess. He caught me at a bad moment this morning. I was half aware I was alive and was trying like hell to not scream and cry because I was in pain. So, when he called and started asking me questions about money, bills I owed, student loans, and what I did over a year ago, I about lost it. Not my finest moment. I felt so guilty afterwards. I don’t like getting upset with him, but sometimes he gets this one-track mind and drills into you, ignoring the obvious, and it grates the nerves. I reacted poorly.
My husband came home to find me in the fetal position on the couch, face in the palms of my hands, trying like hell to not cry. Without a word, he came in, kissed my cheek and placed my coffee on the coffee table. He put all the groceries away, and even put some fresh roses in a vase as a surprise for me. In that process, I took the dogs outside to do their potty business. My husband came outside to have a cigarette and talk. Dad called him and checked on me. When that was done, the flood gates burst open. It was time. I’ve been holding on to these tears for months.
And when I say months, I kind of mean almost a year. Some girls cry all the time. Some cry here and there. I cry never. Let me put this in perspective for you to give you a better understanding of who I am to explain my “no crying” thing.
I view crying as a weakness. I think people who cry often as weak. That’s just me. Dad raised me to be tough. I was the first-born. I was supposed to be a son. In essence I was raised as one. Yes, my mother put dresses on me. I love makeup and having my hair done. But in no way am I the kind of girl who thrives to have the latest Gucci bag (honey, it’s a fucking purse) or care about the latest fashion craze (if I have clothes to cover my body, I’m good). I played baseball (not that cheap substitute of softball), I was a goalie in hockey, I am an avid sportsman, I played basketball, football, was semi-pro in figure skating (ok, that was kind of girly – my mom had her hand in that), and competed in horseback riding shows and events all over Illinois. I wasn’t afraid to get dirty, cut, hurt, kicked, bit, and so on and so forth.
Through the years I’ve had numerous accidents, concussions, and trips to the hospital. We’ve lost count. One I want to touch on was more recent (July 4, 2010). My horse was dying from cancer and we were having him put down. Hardest decision I’ve ever had to make in my life. I loved him so much. He was my everything. He was laying down, being sedated, and I was holding his head in my lap, caressing him, kissing him, and softly talking to him and telling him how special he was to me. It was time for him to be euthanized, and the Vet wanted me to leave (he was afraid I wouldn’t take it well), and I gave my horse one last hug and kiss. Apparently sensing something was amiss, my horse thrashed about in an attempt to get up (I don’t blame him). My left leg got in the way. His back leg and hoof connected with my shin perfectly. It was like watching a medicine ball crush a cement building. I stood there in disbelief. Pain shot through me, and I just walked away. I didn’t want that to be my last memory of him, even though it kind of was. My lower leg was instantly swollen and purple. According to the ER doctor, my tibia was crushed and fractured, though only partially. It never healed.
Through all that I never cried. My parents and husband kept looking at me puzzled. It wasn’t till a week later that I properly mourned the loss of my horse. I finally came to the realization he was gone. I was stuck walking in a funky boot thing, and he was gone.
Maybe that doesn’t explain why I finally broke down and cried today. To me it does. I hold so much inside. I hide so much frustration, pain, and fear inside because I don’t want to burden others with it. It just all came tumbling out. My husband worries so much about me as it is, and I dislike making him fret more over me. I just couldn’t hold it all in anymore. The tears fell down my cheeks like a cascading waterfall. There was no end. All I could choke out was, “I just want to be a normal person. I don’t want to be in this much pain any more.”
In his comforting, he wiped my tears and assured me I was normal. He also told me I was the strongest person he had ever known. It broke his heart to see me cry like I was. Yes, I feel better now. It doesn’t take away from the fact that I still wish I was normal. That I wish I didn’t feel like I do every day. But, it means so much to me that he is there by my side, even to just wipe those tears away and listen to my garbled attempts to cry for normality.