[December 8] So many days, like today, I feel completely lost.
I don’t know what I should be doing to “recover.” I get a little exercise, but everything else I do is very random. I sleep late, I wander to the couch, I eat, I take pills, I go to the bathroom. Twice a day I check email.
Am I supposed to be forcing myself to read books and watch movies? It seems like that’s what a normal person would do when they’re recovering from surgery.
But my brain says, “Nope. Not doing that.”
Should I try to take walks, or push myself to do more of my physical therapy exercises?
My brain doesn’t even bother to answer that. It just weights me down on the couch and refuses to let me up.
I know that I’m recovering, and I guess there will be ups and downs. But it is sooooo slow. And I am so bored and frustrated.
Everyone tells me, “Just relax. Take it easy. Don’t push yourself too hard.”
My body will probably figure out that part.
But my brain? How can my brain know what’s “too hard” for itself?
Maybe it’s just tricking me into being lazy. Maybe it’s too confused to know what to do next. But who’s going to tell me?
I don’t know why they don’t give you more instructions on the hospital discharge paper. A list, with a specific lists of tasks for each day of the two or three months it takes to recover. Week Three, Day Two: Walk at least 300 paces. Week Three, Day Three: Write a list of what you’ll do when you’re well.
Maybe not. But I need some guidance.
I have to find the path back to my normal life, the one where I’m not afraid to be alone, where I can get through the week without sobbing, without anxiety attacks, with enough energy to carry out my work and keep myself fed and keep going to the gym.
I don’t see the path.
I don’t know the way.
Or am I supposed to move ahead into some new life where I’m different person?
I don’t know how to do that, either.
Today’s penny is 2004, the first year of six for the series “Lost.”