As I work on recovery, I’m trying to get my schedule back in order again. Get to bed earlier (1 AM? Hey, that’s an improvement over 4 AM!) and get up earlier (11 AM is good. That’s good, right?) and try to work, gradually, on picking duties back up. I still have trouble sleeping, and I really hope that changes. Physically, I feel..horrible. I feel horrible, honestly. But I’m thankful for the strength to get even a little bit done, because a little sure beats nothing. (I love being profound.)
I wonder if I’ll ever get back to normal, and then I remember that I never really had a normal, so…there’s that. I guess all I can do is keep working on doing my part to get better, and leaving the rest up to God. Sounds clichéd, but it isn’t; it’s not easy, either. I want to fix everything. I’ve always wanted to fix everything, and I get extremely discouraged when I can’t. This, this set of circumstances I’m in and the physical and mental problems I’m facing, makes me feel helpless. Frustrated. But there is truly nothing else I can do, so I get to exercise my weak faith muscles again. I guess that’s not a bad thing.
So tonight, I’m sitting here in the relative quiet, my sleeping little boy’s head on my lap, actually looking forward to tomorrow, feeling…peaceful. The medicines are doing their thing, thank God, but God is doing His, too, and I’m so grateful for that.
Today, I'm Fine 