From a young age, I was conditioned to be very quiet. My mother always had one ailment or another that required very little noise in order for her to get through the day. I had to keep my little brother occupied and out of her hair so she could nap for hours at a time. As a result, my brother and I grew very close and to this day he has nothing to say to our mother.
Into my adult life, I have learned that my problems are my own, and nobody wants to be burdened with them. Usually that isn’t true, but it did prove to be true when I was with The Abuser. One time I had abscess cellulitis in my left breast that became infected. My breast was as hard as a baseball and very painful. I drove myself to the hospital, was injected with medication, had the area cut open, and they had to dig the infection out. When I got home, The Abuser was fast asleep. He never asked how it went, he never cared that I was in pain.
When I was pregnant with my daughter, I went into preterm labor. My ex-husband was sleeping when it happened. I woke him up and told him that something didn’t feel right. I don’t remember what he said, but I remember driving myself to the hospital while he continued sleeping. They gave me some meds to stop my labor and I drove myself home a few hours later, once everything settled down.
This week I pulled something in my upper back. I haven’t felt pain in my back like this in … well, ever. I pushed through work while slamming Aspirin down my throat. When I got home I barely moved, took a Flexeril and went to sleep. The next morning I woke up with pains shooting into my chest and the feeling like my spinal cord was about to rip out of my neck. The shooting pains alarmed me enough that after I got dressed for work, I drove to the hospital (which is across the street from my work) and went to the emergency room. Thankfully, it was only severe inflammation with muscle spasms. I was glad to hear that my EKG was normal. He gave me a script for more Flexeril and Percocet, and told me to go home for the day.
I probably should have woken my husband up and told him what was going on. Chest pain scares me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt pain like that before. But that voice in my head; the voice that has been there since I was a child, told me to handle it myself, to not burden other people with something that may not be a big deal. So, that’s what I did.
I wish I had a way to record the verbal words that I say in one day. Not during a work day, because I have to talk and engage with my patients. But on a weekend. I’m a very quiet person. My mind is always racing with thoughts, and I’m always listening to everyone else in the house when they are talking. Last night I was cooking dinner and trying to tell a story to my husband that recapped my day helping my grandpa pack. My grandmother went with me yesterday, so I was trying to tell him about the things she was doing over there. Instead, my grandmother interrupted me in mid-sentence to say something and my husband responded back to her, and they started their own dialogue. I never got to finish my story, but I did remark on the fact that I’m tired of being invisible. I don’t speak a lot, so when I do, I would hope that people would want to listen to me. I guess not, though.
My husband also loves to watch these stupid ass SJW YouTube videos. He enjoys laughing at the absurdity of the things that come out of their mouth. This second-wave feminism shit just pisses me off. I hate watching those videos because I hate listening to stupidity. I don’t care that you’re pissed off because Marvel makes movies directed towards men specifically. I don’t care that you’re overly excited that Wonder Woman was directed by a female. I think you look ridiculous screaming about how men can’t be raped, and that only men do the raping. I hate all of it. I ended up going upstairs and lying in bed to watch something that didn’t piss me off or get me depressed. Yesterday was just a weird day for me, I guess.
Add that to the fact that our receptionist is pregnant and is using that as an excuse to come in late, leave early, and basically do fuck all of nothing to help us out. Not that she helped much in the first place. She didn’t even want a baby. Once her husbands visa was approved for him to move from Algeria to the States, all of a sudden she wants a baby. And she’s the biggest fucking baby about being pregnant. I don’t even know how she’s going to do the mothering thing. She can’t even handle shit with the baby inside of her. I guess my tolerance for weakness has never been there. Especially with people that have had it all handed to them on a silver platter, and then whine and complain when they have to do something on their own.
Here’s to hoping this coming week will be better.