First of all, this is just a personal blog trying to process my personal experience, emotions, and feelings in light of my personal recent events which cause this frustration. Part of why this is happening probably was because I had these thoughts for several years, of my fears losing the ability to use my hands, or legs. The ability to hear. I already lost the ability to see normally ages ago, which also, probably the cause of my accident. I would like to apologize in advance for this post, if it seems insensitive. Again, this is just me trying to process.
I don't know why, but since 2019, my August has always been cursed - if I ever leave my nest. The recent accident was worse, I fell into the sea, while I was just walking through this dark, un-illuminated path small dock in Sorong and somehow my left arm hit something which resulted in a broken arm - wearing spalk during the 4 hours flight to Jakarta which continued on several days - and a surgery to install plate and screws. It all happened so slowly yet so fast, I'm just grateful I had a caring companion(s), extra help here and there, and my family.
But, that wasn't the most frustrating part. Although it was. Somehow, I became more and more miserable after the surgery. I was feeling helpless since my arm was swollen and I need to be taken care of. I had my mom, yes. I was grateful. Eternally grateful that she's around to care for me. It was just at that moment I realized, I can't live alone. I don't want to be alone. Why do I have to be alone. All of my ability to be independent - now gone. I am dependent, even in my own place.
My mom had to go back home when it was just 2 weeks post-op - where they already took off the bandage and removed the stitches - and left me alone in my apartment. It was urgent, I understood. It was me who bought her tickets and all. But still, I was sad. It was really nice to have mom and being her big baby one more time. Home cooked meals, someone to talk, someone who takes care of me..
I could do simple things alone, yes, but my arm wasn't fully normal so everything felt like a slow motion and painful. Cooking, washing dishes, showering, puting on my own clothes were frustrating I would sometimes cry. There were times when I felt okay, but most of the times I was frustrated, lonely, and cried a lot while watching Grey's Anatomy - the kind of torture I chose to do in between meals and meds I had to take. There were also times when I went to the hospital alone for regular checkup. Usually I was with my mom so I shed a tear while waiting for the nurse to call up my name because I miss my mom.
It was, frustrating.
Since I could slowly use my hand, I decided to work a little. I mean, shouldn't be hard to open up the laptop and type a few things right? Wrong. I had to raise my hand a lot of times because it'd become stiff and it hurt. However this daily routine was what helped me so that the day went by. I just needed the time to move quickly. If the first week after surgery was so slow it felt like eternity, then the following weeks went faster - with the additional tears and frustration here and there.
Now, entering week 11 post op, I can do things pretty much normally. I can cook, I can wash dishes, I can do laundry with the normal speed I use to have, I can take the train (with precautions) to go to work, I work and joke around with my coworkers.. So, I should be back to normal right? Wrong. I am always terrified to take the train even when I put on my arm sling because people just don't care and just hit my arm I'm afraid they'd squish it. I can't lift things heavier than 1,5 kg. Showering feel like a work. I can't reach my back if I want to scratch it, I can't just sit still without my arm sending this electrifying signals from time to time, I can't work out much that involves my arm. Those things are simple but those were the things that I can normally do. Funny that I now realize how many activities require 2 functional hands. Now I can't. I have to be extra careful still to function. The thoughts that I am not normal anymore for the time being, or the thought that even if my bone is fully healed I will never go back to the way I was, are frustrating. I want to be able to live without worrying whether it will affect my arm or not. I want to be able to do planks without thinking that my left arm is strong enough to hold my weight. I want to be able to do those tiktok dances as my way of working out. Even I want to be able to put on my clothes, puting on my backpack normally without letting a little scream if I do it too quickly. The heavy feeling on my left arm is a reminder that I'm a defect.
You know what else is frustrating? To think that I live alone, with no one, no partner no husband no - no one. The one that once a close friend constantly remind - when will I get married. This burdens me more than I can handle. The thought that it's just gonna be me for the rest of my life. Or maybe my arm being broken is the sign that there will be no rest of my life for a really long time.
Major things happen to me this year and it's just a lot to take in. After Japan, I feel like my happiness line just slumps. I can never recover from something that huge, and it's been 2 years!
And so I withdraw myself from sharing or regulating my emotions in social media, except tiktok - since I only have a few friends there. I even come back here - to my abandoned blog - to release some of this frustration at 2 am, because I'm borderline depressed. I know I just need friends, which I am grateful that I still have, but dragging this whole "I broke my arm and I'm depressed from being isolated from social settings for almost 2 months" is getting tiring, even for me.
I'm tired, too. With my thoughts. I want happy thoughts, but they're not here.
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