What even is life if one doesn’t have mobility, range of motion, or the energy to deal with the lack?
I’m a hyper person. Not moving around gives me anxiety. Not being able to move around – let’s just say these days the anxiety cradles a nice bit of impotent rage.
Somehow I’m supposed to [insert chronic pain/injury/illness cheerleader axiom]. I think those sayings come from people who
- Are not in chronic pain
- Have never had to deal with chronic pain
- Have forgotten what their chronic pain situation was like and now feel entitled to tell people how to live
or any other variety of reasons I don’t care about thinking of anymore.
I’m tired. I want this to be over. I want to have a life again. I command thee to commence the patching up sequence, Universe. For an injury that was supposed to heal in six to eight weeks, forty weeks is way overdue.

Whatcha say?