Day 367

Its been 367 days since I hurt myself while helping my husband with some chores.

That day was a perfect storm waiting to happen. Emotions ran high as we worked in grief, frustration and anger. All of these building and with no outlet but to grouse to each other, my husband and I continued to work in and out of the small metal shed super-heated in the oppressive July sun. We needed to sort and determine what to keep, donate or sell out of his father's belongings that were stored in the shed. A difficult job in preparation of finding space to store other items that would need to fit into the shed at a later date.

Like the summer forest, one spark destroyed everything. Tripping while sharing the load of a heavy, awkward box on that hot July day left me with crippling pain -- unable to walk without the use of crutches or canes. For over a year I've wished things were different on that day.

This year, I don't go with my family to help finish the chores that screeched to a halt last year in the aftermath of my injury. At home, I hobble around to take care of myself and the pets. A little cooking, a little cleaning up, and a trip to the garden that grows just outside the dining room door is as much as I expect of myself this morning. Later, I'll do the daily chores, but for now I enjoy the peace.

I talk to my husband who is tired from a long trip yesterday and worn to the brink of exhaustion by the cares of trying to help maintain something that he doesn't have the support or resources to deal with. I feel guilty that I'm at home, with only work, our home, yard and pets to care for. My husband has given up on asking his brother to help him, even though his help is needed. Brother refuses to help with the simplest of tasks and he refuses to see the problems that he heaps upon his own family.

Somedays, the resentment of the entire situation bears down on me.  If only, if only, if only. Days like today, when I tie my shoes and prepare to crutch through the neighborhood with the dogs, knowing exactly this task will require all my strength and ability and will leave me with excruciating pain and swelling, I resent everything about July 4, 2015. What was once a hobby and enjoyable highlight of my day--walking and working dogs, training them to become the best possible companions--has become a chore filled with trepidation that will always end in horrible pain and frustration.

How do you overcome something that has changed your life so much?