A New Year!
What I am about to write is not my originally intended post. I was following the timeline of the year. Sticking to New Years resolutions, which still ends up at the end of this column, just in a different manner than anticipated.When deciding to create a blog I accepted that this meant opening emotional scars, healing, criticism and hopefully encouraging others. This is why I must be honest, painfully honest about my day yesterday. New Years Eve.
The day was filled with wonderful moments of sharing a couple of hours with our two middle children while watching them get beautified at the salon. Listening to their teenage goofiness ends with me shaking my head, but smiling none the less.
(not a pic of recent hair changes, just the most recent one I could find of them together)
Next was lunch at the Mexican restaurant with friends I may not get to see often, but pick conversation up with as if we were just visiting the day prior.
(gorging on Mexican food with laughter around the table is the best!)
An afternoon nap was essential since my energy level is low after recovering from surgery. I awoke with my chest tight, my spirits low and an anxiety coursing through my body that I could not shake. Here is where my day takes a ninety degree turn from fantastical to bleh.
A couple hours of fervently trying to rid myself of this mood, I acknowledged where I was. This same familiar place I pass through after every single flippin' surgery.
I'm in pain, from recovering and from two dopey falls in the past week. I've come down from the narcotics, my body is using all of its energy to heal, I am again dependent on others until I can walk again. I have seven more months of casts, air boots, braces, physical therapy and healing before I feel decent. Anger is waiting for me to let it completely take over, but something holds me back from letting myself adequately dive into it.
I live in the Jacuzzi bathtub due to my severe arthritis, trusting that this will decrease the pain and ease my apprehension, I slide into the steaming water. In a sense I am soaking out my anguish, except that my left leg is propped on the edge of the tub, owed to the red cast covering it, tears are brimming at the ledges of my eyelashes and the scars that ordinarily don't bother me are flashing like the vacancy sign in the hotel window.
In a short amount of time, I have effectively made myself miserable. Just me, myself and I. I did this. Knowing from past lessons what I need to do to get myself out of this trench is not helping. This is crap.
When I make a conscious decision to step out, get back into my positive pace, a smile replaces my frown, a glint returns to my eyes and all is back on track. The first two years this would sometimes last for days, on occasion, weeks. The past year I could change it within hours, at the most, a day.
At the same time I establish that I will obligate getting out of this hole I've fallen into, my husband is right on cue with an hour of motivational coaching. To my dismay and his delight, I whisper that I perceive his words are correct, tears of release flow down my cheeks and I am spent. It's late and I am exhausted. I eagerly anticipate a new dawn on the horizon.
I am in bed when the new year arrives. A cheerful realization cracks my thoughts. December 29th has come and gone. Without thinking, I wake my husband. I exclaim, "Husband! It's the thirty first!" His sleepy "uh huh" response really meant " No #*%! Sherlock"
" Husband, the day passed and I didn't even think about it, not once." I am ecstatic. The day nor the six o'clock hour of the collision has haunted me this year!
It's literally now a new day and new year. My muscles tense with exhilaration, my fists ball at my sides, I feel like I've just made the best play of a softball game. I point my finger at nothing into the darkness and say "You just try to keep me down! 2014, I am going to kick your BUTT!!!"
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