You're probably about as sick of hearing about my back problems as I am trying to pretend it's not as bad as it actually is but...
I'm mad at myself for being in so much pain. I hate that to me being in pain feels like I'm failing at something - at not being in pain probably. I'm annoyed that as much as I try to ignore it it doesn't go away. I wish I could forget about it as easily as other people. I hate saying "I can't do that but I really do want to." I hate explaining I can't because of pain and I hate how it sounds like an excuse, I hate excuses. I hate having to call Stuart into the room to help pick something off the floor for me or put something in the oven for me. I hate even talking about it - like giving it more attention that it deserves, like it feeds off of the attention like a disobedient child or something. I hate that making Sunday dinner is painful.
The only thing that I find funny about it in a really sick way and that I can use to explain how bad it is is that my Chiropractor said, "When you first came in I was like, 'Whoa!' You're injury is the worst I've seen in my 15 years of practise."
I'm back on the 'no bending, no lifting, no twisting' regime and I need to go in to my Chiropractor two more times this week and by the end of the week I'll be the owner of a back support belt. Whine whine whine. I know I'm being ugly!
I don't gripe too often, right? At least now I don't feel like I'm carrying as much stress tension in my back.
I need a doughnut.