Walk the Walk

I just logged into my blog to read the last post because I honestly didn't remember writing it. The latest hospital stay was long, arduous, and full of ups and downs. After that post, I was still in the hospital for another 5 days...bringing my total time to 10 days.

After that Saturday post, I developed a hematoma underneath the C-Section incision across my abdomen. The doctors drained it once and it filled again and they decided it best to re-slice the wound half way and really get in there to help drainage and to prevent infection. Cool, right? Also - the worst back pain you could ever imagine. As someone who uses my core effectively, the fact that I could now no longer use my abdominal muscles to hold myself up, my back has taken the brunt of the work...something it isn't used to.

Joyous.

Great.

Awesome.

What all this means to me and my recovery is that I now have a large square hole down around my waistline that I have to take wet gauze and stuff myself all the way across and under the skin twice a day. As if my recovery wasn't going to be hard already - throw this wrench into it and now it just 100% blows. I've got a nurse that comes when I need one but mostly it's Scott and I who are playing doctor in the early morning and in the late evening to make sure I don't develop an abscess and have to be readmitted.

I've also not slept thru the night in over 3 months...and that it still going strong.

Doldrums.

Gloom.

Blah.

Now look - I've spent the better part of my adult life helping people improve their lives, encourage them to feel better, look better, and be better. I've taken classes on life coaching, positivity, motivational psychology...you name it. I help people with goals in fitness, in career, in life - it's my thing....it's what I love...it's my life's work (so far). But for the last couple of weeks - if you analyze my mind - I've basically been in the deepest, darkest, most miserable hole of depression and anxiety that you could ever imagine. 

Depression isn't something that I've ever really experienced first hand. And I can't really say that I'm depressed - but I have been privy to depression symptoms over the past couple of weeks. I began letting myself feel bad for myself. I was wallowing in my own grief, mad that all these complications happened to me, sad that I couldn't rebound as quickly as the first surgery, upset that I spent a long time in the hospital, and outright pissed that my life was spiraling downwards and I couldn't control it. Who the fuck do I think I am?

My friends and family have been pivotal in helping me. Words of encouragement (that I didn't give two shits to hear), helping setup my day-to-day while at home, sending me texts to nudge me along, helping me clean myself, walk the dog, make food...all these things have helped make this really dark time bearable. Although I still may shed a tear or two for no reason at all...each day is getting better.

Here's to no more complications, quick, pain-free healing, and having a reason to smile every freakin' day.