There are nights when I can’t find comfort in my own body. When every position feels wrong, and no amount of shifting or adjusting brings relief. My back feels like it’s being wrung out like a washcloth—tight, twisted, worn. Some spots burn sharp, like someone’s taken a knife and turned it slowly, just to see what gives. Other places just ache with a bone-deep fatigue that no amount of rest ever quite erases.
It’s hard to put into words, even for the people who love me most. But I try—because I need them to understand when I can’t keep pretending I’m fine.
Last night was one of those nights. I was so uncomfortable I couldn’t even settle. Just constant, restless pain. So we made the call: take the muscle relaxer. Not to fix anything, but to knock me out. Because sometimes the kindest thing I can do for myself is stop feeling—even if that means giving in to sleep I didn’t earn through peace, but through exhaustion.
It’s not weakness. It’s not giving up. It’s choosing mercy.
And today? I caught myself asking—why does everything hurt so bad? Where did I go wrong? I hadn’t overdone it. I hadn’t done anything wild or reckless.
But I had handled Harley on the leash at the shot clinic. I stood in line with other pets, kept him steady, kept me steady. That’s something I couldn’t have done even a month ago.
And sure, today I sat on a stepstool to move laundry from the washer to the dryer. But you know what? We adapted that space when we replaced the machines—not just so I could do it without hurting myself, but so I could do it without having to ask for help. We’re making our home work for me. That’s not defeat. That’s wisdom. That’s progress.
This body of mine—held together by faulty glue and a whole lot of grit—is getting stronger. The steps we’re taking are working. The strength is coming back. But healing has never meant painless. It just means I’m doing more in spite of the pain, and with a lot more wisdom along the way.
Rest isn’t weakness. Needing help doesn’t mean failure. And pain, as stubborn and sharp as it is, doesn’t get to steal the fact that I’m still going.
Even when it hurts.
Simple Southern Mommy 