And oh man am I getting my ass kicked right now. In addition to my usual pain, my clumsy side decided I needed more pain. I stepped on a dog bone, slipped on my naked floors, and hit hard. And bounced. I haven't bounced before because I can usually catch myself. My head bounced and I could swear I heard a crack. No fear, the head and floor are intact.
You know it's bad when the dogs go silent. I got up, crawled to the couch, climbed up, and laid there for a couple of hours.
You know how moms try to do everything while trying to keep her issues to herself? That's me to a point. I got up, made dinner, and kept fairly quiet about how much it hurt. I felt a little better on Saturday and ran errands on Sunday. That was unwise. My pain went from 7 to 11 on the 1-10 scale and all I want to to is sleep. Crying takes too much energy.
I hate being a downer. Hate it! I hate being stuck. I know what happens when I push too hard instead of listening to my body, but I did it anyway. I do it anyway. And I end up here yet again; in pain, hating every second of it.
Whine over.
