Okay let me begin with saying that this past year has NOT been easy for me. Not at all. I've been silent about most of my struggles, trials and tribulations, and for a good reason.
I do not like to pity. I do not like when people feel sorry for me. And yes (this is something I need to seriously work on) - I do not like when people offer me their help. It's not about power or control. Or maybe it is and I'm refusing to admit it.
I've been dealing with severe back and neck pains for years (pretty much ever since I gave birth to Mark in 2015). But as it proves to be a pattern with me - I did not pay attention to scary symptoms or pain and just pushed through - day after day, year after year. Until this august, when I was walking on the street of Burbank and suddenly lost the feeling in my face, my hands, and my legs.
After a scary visit to ER and following weeks of frustrating doctor's visits , X-rays and MRI's, I've been diagnosed with multiple spinal stenosis (in three different spots) and even since I've been going through an intensive treatment therapy. Three times a week.
During that time I've become someone I never knew I could be. Someone who's scared. Week. Unsure. Someone needing help. Someone who's afraid she won't make it.
Today is the 5th day of 2020 and for the past three days I've been in bed, motionless, crying in agonizing pain, realizing that Vicodin and Oxy don't work no more.
Where do you go from here?
My mother and many of my friends tell me - lots of this come from my head. From my heart. From unhappiness I've been dealing with for years while putting a mask on for social media, for friends and for everyone who need me to "get my shit together" because anything otherwise might hurt my daughter's career.
I want to make a wish for 2020. I wish healing for my mind. Healing for my broken heart. And who knows, maybe my spine will follow along.
Happy 2020 everyone. Thank you for reading.
Love
Vicky
