I've worked very hard to maintain a brave face in my every day activities. I used to stagger from bed and begin my day feeling like I was walking in a pool of water. I struggled through each step. However, I felt that I conquered brilliantly. I arrogantly thought "I got this. No big deal." I would flippantly say "I'm grateful that I don't have to take a bunch of medication." or "I'm lucky there isn't a bunch of treatments that I need to endure."
Wrong.
I WISH that the doctor would have said "Oh! This is NO BIG DEAL. Here is a prescription for a medicine with no side effects that will kick this in no time." Ugh. She didn't say that. I didn't hear those words. Nope. Didn't happen.
Lately, I describe my every day life as RUNNING through water. All day. Every day. I go to bed exhausted. I wake up tired. Things that used to be NO BIG DEAL now require tremendous effort and - let's face it - tremendous skill to accomplish.
I was at the library today. I was walking toward a computer to renew some books that I haven't finished when - don't ask me why - I decided that I wanted to use a different computer. I changed directions to head across the room. HUGE mistake. Somehow my legs got tangled. My arms started flailing and flapping in an attempt to steady my tipping body.
No go.
I fell. Hard.
Humiliation holds no boundaries when you screech, fall, and then BOUNCE along cement floors. Do I need to add that once my falling is complete - in all it's glory - it's an incredible sight to see me attempt to stand up again? To say that it is difficult for me to get on my feet is an understatement. I begin to roly-poly around to gain enough momentum to get on my hands and knees. I stick my hine-y straight up in the air and, with my arms straight out in front of me to counter-balance my bottom-heavy-so-modestly-elegant lower-half and I SLOWLY stand. I'm telling you, this takes so much effort, I secretly wish to hear whistles and cheers of admiration so I can holler TA-DA while bowing graciously
Instead, I gather every ounce of dignity I can muster (which, believe me, isn't much) and make my red-faced-humiliation-filled exit as quickly as my wobbly legs can move.
Crap.
So I've been on a pity-me-bull-dozer-train that doesn't seem to ever stop changing indignities. I conquer one problem just in time to face another complexity.
Then phone calls began.
My friend, Annette, buried her beloved father. And then lost her oh-so-young-neighbor too quickly to cancer.
My cousin who is a mere 28 lost her husband of 4 years leaving behind a very young widow and daughter.
My oh-my-gosh-I-love-her-SO-much friend, Sunnie, is dealing AS WE SPEAK with the passing of her husband.
My beautiful-wonderfully-fabulous friend, Debbie, and her family just buried a brother, son, husband, father.
And I'm grateful to slog through my running-through-the-pool days.
I'm grateful that I was able to go to the library today.
I'm grateful to feel humiliation course through my body.
I'm grateful to be writing. And singing (off key). And dancing (even if it's in my mind). And cleaning my toilets. And feeding my dogs that bowl me over in their rush to be fed because they must be STARVING. And watering my yard. And sitting at the pool with my girls. And reading a book. And watching a movie. And making sun tea for my guy. And wobbling. And falling. And slurring my words. And not taking medicine to fix ANY of this.
I'll embrace it all and simply be grateful that I CAN.
