Fact: With healing comes pain. And I’m in a lot of pain. It makes me angry and irritable. I’m tired of it.
I am healing. The surgery incision is closing naturally and looks clean. Despite pains that shoot through it, it’s healthy and progressing well.
I’m irritable and sensitive.
In therapy we’re talking more about my emotions concerning watching the foot turn black and the skin fall off. We’re discussing the trauma of that and the trauma of looking down and seeing an incision with no staples or stitches. It’s just a cut where toes used to be. It’s open like a side of beef or a skillet steak. This is my body, not meat, yet I look like someone from a slaughter house who was mistaken for cattle. I am butchered also on the thighs and neck where tubes were entered. I’m butchered and that is difficult to swallow.
I look at myself in the mirror and try not to see the marks on my neck. My hair is long enough to hide two neck scars but nothing hides how absolutely insane this all is. I don’t want to accept it. I just want this to stop and to wake from this nightmare.
I mourn still. I’m angry, tired and not ready for the next leg of life. I’m not ready to leave here and go to my friend’s house and live with them. I don’t do well in this type of setting because I don’t know what is expected of me. I have a mental illness to hide. I hate restrooms. I can’t shower with a man in the house! I’m just now getting showers here, now I have to figure out how to get my head around living with a man who is sleeping one room over.
I fear people. I fear black women and I’m afraid of men.
While at the home of the friend’s who are good enough to take me in, I’ll have nurses, CNAs and physical therapist’s visits. I’ll be in treatment for a long time. Emotional and physical healing are far from over, neither are healing and growing pains.