"I'm watching you," I said, "be - both - the mom and the dad... I don't want to be the mom anymore."
"I don't get it," he replied.
"It's stressful," I whispered, about to lose all that is stuffed inside of me.
"And you don't even drink," he said as he walked back out to face mothering and fathering duties, "I don't know how you do it."
Sciatic pain is keeping me from doing pretty much of everything. A slow return of a pain that led me to surgery two years ago when the founder of the SW Naturopathic College - known as Dr Anti-Surgery - asked me if I was afraid of dying on the table has come back full force. In fact, I think it is worse than it ever was.
I have spent the past few months trying to remain neutral toward the erupting feeling of my leg being caught in a metal-spiked bear trap. I have thought and prayed and contemplated the deeper meaning and reason for my pain. What is my body and soul trying to tell me? Meditation will bring me into oneness with the pain - oh! I'm not even supposed to call it pain. Journaling will help me rise up to what it is I'm trying to tell myself.
I've contemplated everything. Is it my marriage? A new career fear? Self-hate? Am I psycho? Out of touch? Too in touch?
It's not difficult to lose energy when you spend most of the day lying down. It gets comfy in the pit. It's dizzying to stand - not to mention painful. I'm aware of every movement and how it feels. I was before the pain returned - grateful for every step that was a normal step. And now - when most movement carries pain.
Just a week ago, I could not get to the bathroom without crying, seering, and tearing pain.
On the other side of this tug of war between my soul and my Self is a worn out, tired, and pained self looking for the immediate fix. Turn it off. I don't care what it takes. I'll contemplate my soul and take care of her and nurture her when this is over. I promise.
I can't do this anymore. As much as the Mommy-Time-Out might be 'nice' (did I really just say nice and sciatic pain in the same sentence?), it's not really that nice. And the longer it lasts, the harder it is to make my way back. That takes energy. Motivation. Stamina.
Baby steps. Through the pain. To the answer. To life on the other side of sciatica.
