A Lucky Girl

It’s almost 4am and I’m the only one awake. Mr. Lyndsy is tossing and turning, sick. I hope I didn’t give it to him. He says it’s the change of weather, but who knows what I picked up on the plane. The dog is passed the hell out at the opposite end of our sofa. Not sure why she left the comfort of the bed. Maybe she thought I needed protection.

Jet lag is keeping me up, but so are the thoughts constantly running through my head. I have paperwork to get done so my student loans don’t skyrocket. I owe so much money that I’m not sure it’ll ever get paid back. At this point, I have a hard time caring. I thought I’d be able to work one of any several jobs but that didn’t pan out. At first it was budget issues since everything I wanted to do was government-related. Now it’s pain and health issues. Sitting at a desk doing anything for 8 hours a day just doesn’t feel like a possibility. I can’t get through a movie without my back and/or leg screaming at me. The fog that envelops my brain a lot of the time doesn’t help either. Hard to do anything detail-oriented if you can’t remember why you opened the computer in the first place.

I have no idea if my back, leg, or other issues will ever get better. I’m learning to live with what seems to be my new normal. I use the reminder app on my phone to keep lists (which helps, except when I can’t remember what I wanted to remember in the first place. (Seriously, I once thought, “I need Q-tips!” So I opened the app on my phone and then started making a list that included everything eXCEPT Q-tips.) I make sure I give myself plenty of time if what I’m doing requires walking or moving about very much. I have recovery days. Sometimes it’s just making sure I get a nap.

But then I think about our insane little dog who really is a bundle of love. I think about our fish who thinks the dog is insane (he told me so). I think about Mr. Lyndsy and his continuing support while I try to work out what the fuck is going on with my life. I think about the friends who were so happy to see me when I came to visit and the fact that I was able to visit. I think about my family, who are a little crazy, but generally a good group of people. I think about the toys I have to play with, a constant supply of craft materials, and that I have a bed that’s comfy even when I can’t sleep.

No, my life isn’t perfect. Far from it. But when I take a step back and think about all I do have, I realize just how lucky I am. And for now, that’s enough to get me through the shit of it.