Where to begin?
If you’re still subscribing to my blog, you may actually have forgotten who I am. Which wouldn’t be a strange thing, because 2017 was a year in which I forgot who I was. I had spent the many years preceding it, building a readership, an online business and a name for myself in this funny little (ok, it’s big) quilting world some of us have been lucky enough to belong in. And then my body fucked me over…. I had been keeping those interested up to date on my body and the way it had been letting me down, but last year was just so depressing, and so debilitating, I thought I would save those of you still reading, the reality of how much of a sad sack I had become, and how much of a hole I had fallen in to. Then today, in an act of complete boredom, I logged in here and started reading some of my original blog posts (eight and a half years ago!?!?) and amongst laughing at myself, remembered just how much I love WRITING. That I started this blog all those years ago as an aspiring writer, NOT a quilter…..
So. Here I am. Again. I’m going to dip my toe in a little, and at the risk of spewing out all of the heartache 2017 brought me, will write a wee bit down….
I went in to 2017 full of hope. My eldest son had finished high school, which in essence meant that I no longer had to deal with my ex-husband – a 16 year battle coming to an end, and me limping to the finish line. My eldest daughter had survived her first year of high school, and was finding her feet. My youngest son was beginning high school, and although his anxiety was high, he was looking forward to a new start, and the excitement of a new environment. And my youngest daughter was heading in to grade three……and was continuing to fill the house with laughs at her comedic endeavours. My marriage was 13 years strong. We still liked each other, and knew the year would be a busy one – with him taking on the presidency of our local junior football club.
As the year progressed, and trials were sent our way, I set my sights on tackling each new rising test with gusto. My son’s relationship with his father, which was always rocky, blew up spectacularly. He had made the decision to move in with him full time, and three weeks later returned to us, shattered. The massive reshuffle of our home was again thrown in to chaos, and the following three months revolved around getting our garage turned in to a home for him, so we didn’t have to reshuffle the house again!
My youngest son’s first months of high school were…… how do I put it? They were possibly the hardest of his schooling life. As a kid who had been supported through primary school by teachers who understood he was an anxiety ridden little boy, the reality that high school teachers did not necessarily have the time to get to know him, and what makes him tick, was a shock to the system. We were heartened by the majority of teachers at our first interviews, who were pleased to hear there were ways of helping him out in the classroom. But we were mortified by one particular teacher, who had already been making his life a misery……and continued right through the entire year. This kid’s expectation of Year seven was blown out of the water – and not in a good way…
The girls were a relative breeze by comparison….thankfully!
On the broken body front, things went from bad to worse. But I finally found a new GP who was willing to listen to me, and sent me for an MRI. I got an answer (other than “you’re just going to have to put up with this forever”) – Arthritis in a facet joint in my neck, scoliosis and an impingement in my C6/7……. I started seeing a physio, who was brilliant and patient. But after a couple of months, he was ready to throw his hands in the air and move me on….but discovered taping my whole shoulder and neck together worked well. Baby steps.
I was then referred to a massage therapist by my son’s footy coach. This turned out to be one of the better things to happen last year….as he managed to work wonders on my shoulders and neck. He also referred me to the chiropractor at the practice, after he picked up that I had nerve problems when my arm and hand were going numb and presenting with pins and needles….
Which brings me to my wonderful chiropractor – Patrick. Now, I’ve seen a couple of different chiro’s over the years, but Patrick is SO very different. He practices Gonstead Chiro. If you have a bit of time, it’s certainly worth investigating. It works with yournervous system as a whole, opposed to just being cracked and manipulated and sending you on your way. And Patrick was the one to finally diagnose the fact that I have a prolapsed disc…… which makes a huge amount of sense, given the crap I have been dealing with in my neck and body for the past three years now….
Annnnnnnnywayyyyyyyy. Long story short – I’m still dealing with a lot of pain, discomfort and frustration – but there is certainly light at the end of the tunnel…… No sewing yet. But maybe in the future…..
To be continued…..