Sleeping in my Bed

Not being able to lay in bed has been harder than I would have imagined.  Not being able to retreat to a hot bath is just as hard.  I've not been able to shower in a week because of my incisions.  I could cover them and shower.  However, it would require I use adhesive to 'tape' my arm.  The skin breakdown is already an issue and so I've chosen to protect my skin as much as possible.  My normal coping techniques have been shot out of the park.  This morning, as I sit in my recliner, I'm struggling compose myself.

Sleeping, or trying to sleep, in my recliner isn't going well.  Laying in bed is even worse.  I've had no privacy what-so-ever.  And that part of this recovery process is not one that I was prepared for.  I knew sleeping in my bed was going to be an issue.  I wasn't prepared for the emotional effects this would all have on me.

This morning, the tears are plenty. I slept very little again last night.  Finding myself more and more sleep deprived.  And with that the tears are more.  I'm not coping well this morning.  Unable to stop the tears. Unable to think clearly.  

On a good day with no other factors playing into the mix, I struggle with depression and staying above water. On a good day it takes non stop effort to keep myself going.  I knew this would be tough. I knew it would be work. I knew I would need to be mindful and proactive in order to get past the first few weeks w/o sinking into a deep hole.

I guess my expectations for myself were a bit higher than they should have been.

Adding in the frustration and anger that has taken up residence towards the first surgeon who arrogantly blew me off...and...I'm a mess.

I left my massage and therapy appointments late yesterday afternoon/evening feeling pretty good.  Somewhat empowered and able to fight this battle with my head up high.

Somewhere between my therapy appointment and early this morning I lost it all.