I feel excruciating pains on my bad days. Days where the act of inhaling and exhaling makes my back hurt. My wrists and fingers stiffen up and the arches of my feet and my toes ache as if I have been walking in the most uncomfortable shoes for 3 days straight. Waking up in my mattress with a soft blanket and 4 pillows placed strategically to reduce my pain feels like I was dropped on massive boulders from a great height. I feel battered. When I’m holed up in my room watching mindless tv and crying for a lack of better things to do, mumma comes and sits next to me. She shows me silly cat videos, massages my wrists or beats my head slowly and rhythmically. She forces me to sit in the car while she runs errands, buys me fruits that I like and tells me gossip about our extended family or just thinks out loud in the car. She drags me out of my room when I haven’t gotten out of bed for 8 hours during the day to play with my cat and to make me run.
She goes through her problems and deals with diabetes and anxiety and becomes cynical with me while we laugh over our pain and suffering but never forgets to promise me it’ll get better. She gets me raw mangoes and tell me she hates me as she sets it on the table because she knows my cravings before my period and she knows the PMS is bad. Every doctor’s appointment, every breakdown, every bad reaction to a medicine, she holds my hand as I apologise to her for having to take care of me all the time. You see she took care of my depressed grandmother who suffered from schizophrenia and Parkinson’s disease and almost lost her smile but now she has our therapy cat too and I apologise. I wonder how anyone could compete with this ?
I feel unlovable.