Recently there has been a hiatus from my fitness routine.
I got hurt.
It could have been the lifting I did that day, the technique involved, the stress I regularly experience before and after the workout in our daily life, the fact that I had four children, or gawd knows what else. But hurt I was, and still am. Patiently I recover after surgery. Even simple, tiny, seemingly unrelated stresses seem to set me back, this is getting frustrating. But you would not believe what went on during the worst of it. I believe a larger part of my recovery is purely just emotional. After the shit that went down, a friend asked, "Why haven't you run away?"
2013 started out decent, although we had just experienced the loss of two very important people to our lives in the fall of 2012 and were learning how to do a few things without them, and doing them quite well by now. The routine was coming into it's own quite nicely if you will. My husband was recovering from an injury at this time caused by work, in addition to his previous injuries from the war, so he was receiving ongoing treatment and workmen's compensation for the hours his employer could not provide. He was also beginning the spring semester in college. Overall he was handling the injury well, though it was difficult. Then, a snowball began to form and I think it was destined to roll downhill straight for us. First, he lost his workmen's compensation and began only making half of what we were bringing in, then his GI Bill pay decided to mess up and they were only paying him half of what he was supposed to receive. Two weeks later I find myself in the Dr's office daily for a week trying to find the root of sudden internal pain, when on my 4th son's birthday they decide to admit me for emergency surgery, while on the same day my mom is on her way to pick up our third child for beginning to show signs of seizure activity at school.
wait there's more,...
As I am trying to ignore the craziness of all that and just survive the pain I was feeling and stay coherent enough on the hydrocodone I was on, a call from the school revealed our second child was being suspended from school for a day because of a bad choice of texting behaviour. Shocked, he is always on point. Not to let too much time go by with actual *peace* in the day, a few days later the doorbell rings at 6:30pm. It's CPS. W T F. I am still completely bed bound and listen as my husband answers the door. He is going full infantry mode and attempting to not allow the agent into the house, then trying to tell her I am not going to be available for awhile. She did not care, she needed him or I to answer her questions now. I was my kid's only chance, of course I went out there to see why she was here. Someone from the school anonymously called concerned about her seizure medication. Apparently, while I was in the hospital and my mom had the kids with her for a couple of weeks, they were asking her important questions. I still to this day don't know what she answered, but I do know that CPS is breathing down my neck now, here, at my house days after the surgery. What makes me angry is that they A) called now?! While I was busted up?! B) Did not bring the matter to my attention a this time and went to the grandma C) Fucking school! Jesus Christ! I feel backstabbed, side-swiped somehow. The worst part is, even though they were called about our special needs daughter, they were required to interview all of our kids. Heartbreaking and so akward, to say the least. They did not deserve to go through that because of some paranoid school staff asshat who can't call my cell phone over a concern they may have.
So here we are, making half my husband's work pay, half of is school pay, none of my pay because I couldn't work at the time, and then this. I didn't run away, I couldn't run! I couldn't even walk to the bathroom. I could not even process that all of this was occurring at the time. Now, about 8 weeks out from the medical emergency and physically doing better, it's no wonder I can't get my mind to catch up to what I should be doing. I think I just began processing what was going on,... and it's a hell of a lot to process. I stayed up nights fantasizing about things to say to the school staff whom I suspected did this, tried to think of alternatives to the school I had chosen and thought twice about who I trust. Felt this was embarrassing and heartbreaking, what kind of mom do they suppose I am? What did my mom say to cause such a drastic reaction? Then finances are so difficult and convoluted, so many things need attention like VA paperwork and insurance appeals for Sheme to get her more medicine, and all I am trying to do is just feel better.
Then this happened....