I couldn't hook my own bra.
I stood in my closet, the same closet I'd stood in 10,000 mornings before, arms twisted behind my back, fingers shaking, tears running down my face...
Trying to do something every woman does without thinking.
And failing.
At that moment, I wasn't Linda anymore.
I wasn't a wife. A mother. A grandmother.
I was just a body that had betrayed me.
At 58, I'd been dealing with shoulder "aches" for about two years. Nothing major at first. Just that familiar twinge after a long day at work.
The kind of thing you pop an Advil for and forget aboutā¦
But it didn't stay that way.
The pain crept up on me.
Like a thief in the night, stealing little pieces of my life one by one.
First it was golf.
I had to quit because swinging a club felt like someone was driving a hot knife into my shoulder blade.
Then it was reaching for things.
The coffee mug on the top shelf became my enemy.
I started moving everything down to eye level, like I was rearranging my whole life around this invisible prison.
Then it was sleep.
The pain started waking me up at 2 AM. I'd roll onto my left side and scream.
Not exaggerating.
My husband Mark started sleeping in the guest room because I kept jolting awake, moaning like a wounded animal.
Eventually I gave up on our bed entirely. Moved to the living room recliner.
That became my "bed" for the next 8 months.
Eight months of waking up with a stiff neck on top of the shoulder pain. Eight months of my husband sleeping alone. Eight months of feeling like a guest in my own home.
And that moment with the bra? That was rock bottom.
I was standing in my closet, arms twisted behind my back, tears streaming down my face, trying to do something I'd done 10,000 times without thinkingā¦
And I couldn't do it.
Mark had to help me. My husband had to hook my bra like I was a child.
I sat on the edge of the bed afterward and just sobbed.
Not from the pain. From the humiliation.
From the realization that this thing had taken everything from me.
My independence. My sleep. My hobbies. My intimacy with my husband. My identity.
I didn't know who I was anymore.
And I had no idea that in just 3 weeks, everything was about to change...
