It wasn’t a catastrophe. It wasn’t an emergency. It wasn’t life threatening. But at 45, and after having another baby, every night my feet ached. They throbbed and it seemed as if I had just walked fifteen miles.
I would put them up, rub them with apricot oil, and decide that this was just the price I had to pay for being a member of the really old Mom’s club. And I would hobble to bed, smiling at how quickly being a mom had aged me, trying not to trip on binkies and wandering toys.
Mr. Mueller and our family have been detoxing, antidoting drug exposure, handling depression and all these really big, important things. After about seven appointments, I happened to mention that my feet hurt at the end of the day. That my body ached. That I was just getting old. He suggested I take Arnica 30C in water for ten doses. I mixed the remedy with much skepticism. I mean, there isn’t a remedy for just being ancient and worn out? right?
Wrong. Within five doses my feet stopped hurting.
What a shock. Maybe I need a remedy for not believing my own body when it stops hurting.
Thanks again for my happy feet. What a relief.