Trying To Build Up Strength So I Can Do Stuff On My Own. So I Was On The Stationary Bike For Twenty Minutes.

Trying to build up strength so I can do stuff on my own. So I was on the stationary bike for twenty minutes. Three and a half miles. My legs feel like they’re on fire. This was about eight hours ago.

What I’ve learned is that next time, I should maybe stop at two miles, take a few minutes, and consider calling it a day.

Sucks that I already know I’m still going to be in this much pain tomorrow, and I’ve still got to go to work. I really fucked up this time, didn’t I?

That’s the problem with how I do things. All or nothing. I’ll either lay in bed all day, or go all-out until my legs are shaking. I don’t know how to find the in-between space where things can be done in a healthy, productive, and safe way.

But yeah. Every muscle in both of my legs feels like it’s being stabbed from the inside out with a thousand red-hot needles. I’m sure that’s normal, though.

Umm. Why are there taxidermy bats on Amazon?! Bats are a protected group of animals, meaning that the only place you should be able to find taxidermy of them is museums. The fact that they’re on Amazon means that Amazon is selling illegally obtained animals, likely poached. Sellers will claim that they “found” a bat and decided to turn it into a taxidermy piece. That’s bullshit.

I’m not surprised that Amazon is selling illegal items, it’s just awful that they’re selling taxidermy of animals that are legally protected.

Do NOT buy these items. If you want a bat, please just buy a plushie. It’s legal and doesn’t encourage poaching.

Slight correction: Not every bat species has legal protections, but Amazon didn’t specify what species was being sold.

psa for cane, crutch, and wheelchair users getting top surgery:

you will not be able to exert much effort with your arms. self supporting with a cane or crutch or self propelling in your wheelchair is inadvisable.

make sure you have a support person to help you, or be prepared to be using your legs more if you are able.

Well, back home after another visit to the Emergency Room. As expected, the bloodwork came back saying that I’m actually perfectly fine. After sitting around for like three hours and occasionally being told to “calm down” and “try to stay positive” by a nurse, I’m still in just as much pain. The only thing that’s changed is that I’m also pissed off, which is why I’m not screaming and crying anymore.

I’m beginning to wonder why I even waste my time talking to doctors when they all seem to have the same capacity for rational thought, listening skills, and common sense as a carrot.

Actually, I take that back. That was a mean and unnecessary thing to say. Carrots are at least useful and have never gone out of their way to make me miserable or invalidated. Carrots are wonderful, actually. Probably smarter than most, if not all of the doctors I’ve met, not to mention better for my health.

Wishing that my mom would stop trying to give me advice when I talk about how much pain I’m in. Like, no, it’s not dehydration. Going to bed earlier won’t cure my chronic pain.

Screaming and crying in agony for two nights in a row because I tried to exercise and ended up pulling every muscle in both legs. Taking days off work and wondering how many days I can take off before I get fired. Indirectly being called lazy by my mom, who thinks that I have a sensory processing issue rather than the reality that no, I’m not imagining this pain.

Spending so much time in my room. Not because I’m “lazy,” but because walking is hell. She claims that I’m on my computer too much. Okay. When’s the last time I was on it for more than an hour? At least a month. Because my hands and wrists are killing me constantly.

She wants me to know how to do stuff on my own, but never has the time to teach me anything. Gets mad at me for not knowing things that I was never taught. Mad at me for not being able to read her mind. For being “rude,” when I can’t actually control the tone of my voice. Like, come on. You literally work with autistic kids for a living. You should know at least SOMETHING about autism, then.

She just. Doesn’t listen. Ever. It’s always a fight. I talk about how I felt abandoned as a kid and she gets mad at me for “calling her a shitty mother.” No. I said that my child-brain felt abandoned and alone because I was the one standing up for you when my dad treated you like an object. I spent the majority of my childhood hiding from my dad and brother, and you spent all that time rolling over and doing what you were told.

Stop saying you understand my pain. You don’t know what it’s like to watch your health decline, to wonder how long it’ll be before you don’t have the strength to get out of bed. To wonder if you have the mental capacity to care about your own death, because you accepted the inevitably of death when you were six years old.

But I can’t tell her that. Because then I’m the one being cruel

ITS NOT MT FAULT THAT IM SICK