It is amazing to me that my entire day has been dictated by a few minutes that happened before noon. Today was a physical therapy day again, and I showed up to my time slot feeling amazing. Last session the therapist did more dry needling, and included a new myofascial trigger line along the side of my calf. It changed my whole world, that last session. I was very stiff walking that day, but by yesterday, I had a significant reduction in pain and stiffness. This morning was an extension of the improvement. From the 5 am trip down the stairs with the dogs, through all of my exercises and stretches, I was on top of the world. But the therapist wanted to continue to "clean up that spot," so the needle came back out. This time seemed harder to handle, and it ached and burned well after the minute or two of needling was over. Walking through the grocery store was harder on the way home today than it was Tuesday ahead of the storm. And I have spent the rest of the day feeling as worn out and abused as I have on days when I actually had outpatient surgery. I don't get it. How can something so minor, that gives me great relief, be so hard to recover from in the short term?
I never made it out to take pictures. By the time I finally stopped limping around like I could get sympathy from the dogs and cats, the sun had gone down, and there was only a faint light for me to inspect my yard. I found only small branches on the ground, so I think the Park escaped actual damage from the most recent ice storm. But I kept looking up, and thinking something was missing. This weekend, when it is warm and sunny, I will go back out there and see whether something tall did indeed tip over in the ice, and I missed the cleanup while I was on the other side of town getting stabbed with a needle. I have a couple options for photos. I could go revisit some older ones, for Throwback Thursday, or I could start with a photo project I have been considering. Old pictures are more likely, because the new thing is going to take a lot of work on my part. I am consciously deciding to take up the selfie fad, for a reason. I have a lot of emotional baggage when it comes to how many pictures of me exist. This is a difficult issue on so many levels. Part of it is external, in that few people ever offer to take pictures of me. And the rougher part of it is that I don't like seeing myself in pictures. I don't like seeing anyone, especially myself, in reversed images. I only ever see my face in the mirror, so when I see a picture, the way everyone else sees my face, it's backwards, and thus WRONG. And then I have self-esteem issues enough to throw up all sorts of barriers between me and posing for pictures. I have wondered whether forcing myself to take pictures and post them to be seen on a regular basis will help at all with desensitizing me to the jarring negative reaction I have to my own image. I haven't started yet. Soon. I think. If I can handle the pain.
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