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Wrist rest: De Quervain’s tenosynovitis

Typing really sucks right now because I have De Quervain’s tenosynovitis, which is more commonly known as Tendonitis.

Basically my tendons are swollen in my wrists. Both of them. And the part where they go over the bone feels like someone is jabbing an ice hammer into the side of my arm and trying to crush my bones at all times.

I’m on prescription pain meds and have to do “wrist rest” (say that 10 times. Strike that. Try to say that even three times fast. I dare you) for two weeks. Part of the wrist rest involves wearing super sexy braces that curve up over my thumb, and make it impossible to bend them my wrist.  Basically, their only downfall is that they are removable.

So all day, I’m like, “Well, obviously the doctor didn’t mean I had to wear them when I do my hair and make-up in the morning.” And, “Obviously, I’m not actually supposed to wear them when I’m getting dressed.” Followed by, “Well it’s not like I can actually wear them when I put clothes in the washer, or brush my teeth or rinse dishes or breathe. No reasonable person would ask me to do that.”

So ya, I need to work on that.

Anyway, all this means that playing Words with Friends really hurts, checking emails really hurts, and typing this post really hurts. So I’m going to be healing my wrists for at least the next week and likely won’t get back to your Words with Friends game until it automatically resigns me for not playing for 22 days or whatever the limit is.

Sorry in advance.

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This too shall pass

I feel like I really need to post something because my last post was super intense because life was sucking when I wrote it.

I mean, my life is still sucking, but I don’t want people thinking I’ve just been in a constant state of black hell the last few days.

There was those few hours when I got to drink some chocolate wine and spew out all the craziness going on lately to a good friend. And then there was the other time, when I was watching the latest episode of Covert Affairs and I got caught up in the moment and forget for a second that I am not in fact a CIA spy trying to turn a Yemen official into asset.

Oh, and there was the long walk in the park alone with God and the sunset, the homemade spaghetti I stole from the fridge after my brother slaved over it, and that time when two random (old) guys checked me out while I was walking through the HOBO store with one of my favorite people in the world. Old, schmold. I’ll take it.

So no, I haven’t been in the depths of hell 100% of the last few days. I’ve smiled and whatnot a couple times. Once I even went crazy and cracked up laughing while watching Will Smith talk about secret men in black suits.

But I’m not like awesome-sauce better or anything yet, if you’re wondering.

A lot of stuff still sucks. A lot of stuff is still super confusing. And I still easily drift off into despair more often than I should admit publicly.

There is a story I heard once about a man who is asked to gather all the information in all the world and report it back to his king. And after years and years of searching, he comes back to finally tell the king that the entirety of humanity can be summed up in one phrase. “This too shall pass.”

Such is life.

That bad hair cut I got at 17 eventually grew out. I eventually got my braces off. That horrible woman who hated me when I worked at Wal-Mart eventually faded away. I somehow found a way to go on living after my first love died. I finished college. My heart eventually healed after that dude in grad school smashed it on the ground and then put the pieces in the garbage disposal.

The sermons I give always end. The drives to work always lead me to my destination. And even the food poisoning that attacked my body a few months ago eventually gave up and left.

And in 1 hour and 58 minutes, my 28th year on this blue planet will pass, I will turn 29 and I will be that much closer to 30.

But that too shall pass. And one day, I shall look back and fantasize about how young I was at 29.

And I will remember the hell that has been my life the last couple weeks and think, “That too, did pass.”

 

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Hell

My stress level is making me want to vomit.

All the time.

I feel like I’m in the depths of hell right now, and it’s dark and it’s draining and I’m beyond crying and the doubt is starting to sink in.

That’s the worst part really.

The dark doubt that feels like mid-night.

The feeling that it’s just not worth it. The feeling that I cannot go through something like this again. The feeling that makes me question everything I thought I believed.

I’m struggling to hold on to God right now. I’m forcing myself to listen to Christian music. I’m forcing myself to read the Bible. I’m forcing myself to pray.

I go from, “I’ve let God down and I deserve everything that comes at me.” To “God, please, help.” To “F You God.” To “What if God isn’t even real?” To “God. Help. Please.”

I cannot process this. I feel like someone hit me in the head with a frying pan, punched me in the stomach and then stole my brain. Everything is a haze right now. I’m exhausted, but I’m not sleeping at all.

I worry I’m overreacting. I worry I’m not understanding the severity of the situation. I worry that I’m going to throw up at any moment. I worry because there is so much of this that is out of my control.

Most of my thoughts include plans to run the hell away from here. To go somewhere else. To pack up my bags and get on a plane and fly until I see at least two oceans.

To shout, “Fine. If you hate me this much, and I did this much damage, then I’ll just leave.”

But I know. I know that leaving isn’t going to fix this.

I just wish I knew what would.

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