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Sunday, March 31, 2013

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

The Power of Pain

It is not unusual for abuse survivors to develop the ability to disregard pain. It's a coping mechanism necessary for them to continue living. I believe some people actually do not feel pain, or they feel it momentarily and then dissociate from it so they feel it no more. My experience is that I'm aware of the pain on some level and it manifests itself in ways other than actual "hurt".

This means that I've never completely lost the ability to feel pain which is, according to Therapist, a very good thing. Pain is important. It tells us when something is changing our beings and needs our attention--and that includes both physical and emotional pain. Notice, I said "changing." Pain involves change. It is impossible to experience pain without some sort of impact. If we disregard or dissociate from the pain, the change still occurs, often without attention which can cause a great deal of harm. This is not always the case. Small injuries can heal on their own, but will probably heal more quickly if we acknowledge and care for them.

You may read the above paragraph metaphorically, should you desire, but today I'm speaking literally.

I've been working in therapy to learn how to feel pain more naturally, acknowledge it, and tend to its needs. And in the past six months I've become wildly successful at this. It sucks.

When one is used to expressing pain as mildly annoying crankiness, feeling the actual physical manifestation of pain is a little shocking and very unpleasant. I have iliopsoas tendonitis. Roughly translated for any who have not experienced this, it means that if I lift my right leg (to put on pants, get in a car, walk up or down stairs--you get the picture--basically anything you have to do every day of your life), piercing pain runs through my groin and down my inner thigh. It takes my breath away. When I told Therapist I was feeling it I thought he would do cartwheels, and then I got a huge speech (while he did a tiny happy dance) about how wonderful this was and three years ago I probably would have noticed something didn't feel quite right, and then I would have gone running. I didn't like him very much in that moment.

The point he was making was that I would most likely have experienced further injury or exacerbation of the problem because I didn't recognize it was hurting me. Pain is good, he says, it helps us get better. I'm not yet on his band wagon.

What I know is that I am getting better, but I'm also feeling a great deal of depression and discouragement. Therapist would tell me that's a wonderful thing, too. Hearing that I understand what I'm feeling and acknowledge it, would send him into another, larger happy dance, so I probably won't tell him. That's just an awkward thing to witness.

But I'm not sure what to do about those feelings. The physical pain is intense, and the physical therapy I'm required to do adds more pain at a different level, but I understand that's all part of healing and it's temporary. I'm still discouraged. I feel powerless and wimpy and out of control. Controlling my body has always been important to me (hence, the years of running and the bout with anorexia). Yielding that control is horrifying and scary. I spent much of yesterday in tears and today doesn't look better.

Therapist would tell me again and again that I'm getting better. Maybe I need him to tell me. Maybe I need everyone in the world to tell me, because I'm sad and afraid and in more pain (emotional and physical) than I want to think about. Sleep is difficult, too, because I have the added delight of that cracked tooth. It hurts a bit, as well.

For a few days I could self-soothe. I would do things that made me feel cared for and loved. That was helpful. I've reached a threshold, however, where I'm unable to do that by myself anymore (read: even more loss of control, more vulnerability, more desperation and discouragement), and asking for help feels so silly.

"Dear Person-to-whom-I-am-reaching-out:
I'm finally doing what everyone else does every day; I'm feeling pain. It sucks and I'm not dealing with it very well. I want to curl up in a ball and die when I get a hangnail. When you're finished laughing at me, will you please give me a hug and NOT remind me that I'm just doing something normal and trivial, and instead pretend that I'm amazing for going through this in the first place? We'll both know it's a sham and most people go through this on a daily basis without doing more than saying "OUCH!" and showing the owie to someone nearby before they finish climbing Mount Everest, and I'm inanely making my own mountain of a molehill, but it would really help me if you'll just coddle me for a moment and tell me I'm going to be okay.
Thanks so much.

See--very silly. Still, today is sunny and there's no wind and my leafless trees and shrubs are trying to make leaf buds and the sky is so blue you could swim in it. Maybe things will feel better today.

Time for me to go to the gym and feel a bit of pain. I can't wait!

Monday, March 25, 2013

Sometimes I Confuse Me

Loneliness is an interesting phenomenon. I spent the majority of my life refusing to allow myself to admit feeling it, and when it felt overwhelming, I simply refused to look at it. I did other things, usually tasks requiring physical effort or creativity, and extra practice hours were high on the list of distractions. There were moments when I could not deny the piercing loneliness I felt, but they passed. I felt a great deal of power in denying my need for connection with people. I did not want them.

I suppose now I recognize that it takes so much more stamina and self-control to maintain relationships than it does to simply not have them. I know the rewards of being with someone with whom you share love are worth it, but the truth is, relationships are work. They become work because we have expectations of the roles people fill in our lives and sometimes those expectations are not met--in fact, often they aren't. The work comes in recognising whether or not the expectation was reasonable within the context of the relationship and, if it was, talking with the other person and trying to come to some sort of compromise or allow recompense, if necessary, or revamping our perception of the relationship if the expectation was not reasonable.

The work involved is sometimes messy and emotional. I don't like it. I would rather not do it at all, and in the moments when I have to decide if I'll move toward understanding, sometimes I think I'd like to just forget the person and not have the relationship at all. I feel that impulse deeply and I remember the freedom of not having any meaningful ties to people and only needing to take care of myself. I make believe that I easily filled all my needs with my many activities, my love of nature and the outdoors, and time spent with myself. Then I sigh, because somehow the person who shares the relationship has gotten stuck in my heart in such a way that I don't know how to live without them, so the only possible resolution is to do the necessary work.

Fortunately there are benefits attached. I'm not always cognizant of them until I'm in the midst of a panic attack, Darrin is teaching and not answering his phone, my kids are in school or at work, and I remember I can call one of those people with whom I spend time and whom I love. And when they answer, I realize the work isn't really as difficult as I thought it was, especially when I feel loved and validated by someone I love back.

Am I making any sense? I think I'm probably not. But the bottom line is that today is one of those days when I want to throw in the towel when it comes to people. No one has done anything to upset me--in fact, I had a really wonderful conversation wtih Brozy last night and I unblocked one of those people who were causing me stress a few months ago and it didn't bother me a bit. So I don't know why I'm feeling this way. I'm ridiculous.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this before--but I'm going to again. I once had a friend visit and I took him to a place near my home that is known for its rocky cliffs and formations. I think it's fun to visit because you can climb around on the rocks and jump from place to place and it's novel. However, on that particular day it was windy and stormy, but we decided to go drive there, at least. In the end, we all got out in the nasty wind, to climb the rocks. As we approached one formation, my friend said, "These are amazing! I wonder how they were made." I began to tell him the geological history of the place, but he stopped me, saying, "I don't really want to know. I just want to think about it."

I realized when he said those words that I also have a number of things I like to think about, but I really don't want to know the answers. I'm guessing most people have those if they're completely honest. I'm writing some of my please-don't-tell-me-the-answer ponderings today.

1. Spacing out--I wonder why it happens, sometimes even when we're interested in what's we're doing or the current conversation. I wonder about the nerve synapses that take place when we suddenly fixate visually on something or nothing and have difficulty tearing ourselves away. I wonder if everyone feels the same things when it happens or if people experience it differently.

2. Deja vu--it happens to me often. I remember it happening when I was a child. For a long time it made me very uncomfortable. Now I just try not to think about it. If I get the sensation that I've done something or been somewhere or met someone before, I've decided to just believe that I have--even if I know I haven't. It makes life easier, and speculation about why it happens just frustrates me.

3. Why people like to touch things like soft hair or animal fur--I can't figure this one out, and it's not because I don't like to touch those things. I do. But sometimes I think about how cat hair is covered with saliva, and no one knows where that dog has been, and human hair has sebum and hair product and various other things--yet I still want to touch them. It makes no sense.

4. Why I feel compelled to fold laundry a certain way--and it's not because my mother taught me and I just do what I was taught. There is a specific shape or flatness that happens before I can consider any piece of laundry folded. It drives my children and Darrin crazy because I've been known to re-fold things that don't seem quite right.

5. Watermelon--I like the taste but hate the texture. The color bothers me, as well. In the summertime I cut the fruit into cubes and freeze it, then add it to smoothies. Darrin says it still has the same texture because it doesn't completely blend. I only know it's more palatable after it's been frozen.

I suppose I also have to admit that I'm as guilty as my friend when it comes to thinking about those rocks and their origins, and imagining many different scenarios. I've been know to drive there in the summer so I can sit on a sun-warmed rock and read a book, but mostly I'm not reading. I'm daydreaming. So even when I know the answers, I think I still like to wonder a little bit.

Saturday, March 23, 2013

The stuff of my life

Once written, I never read my posts. However, this morning I started glancing through them (why? I do not know) and I kept thinking, "When did I become a victim? I'm whiny, and intolerant, and I don't really like the person writing here."

I think it's time for a change of attitude. I also think it's time for me to stop focusing on all the things I dislike and start finding things in life that I love.

So today:
1. I love the fact that I can walk again.
2. I'm very glad that I get to go to the gym and work out this morning.
3. I'm making dinner with bok choy tonight. I've never done that before. I think it will be fun.
4. I'm almost finished with tax prep for the year.
5. Soon I will have new carpet in my house--and since I've been wanting this for more than a decade, it's very exciting.

Wait. I just thought of something else I want to write about.

Yesterday my sister posted a picture on Facebook. It was taken a long time ago and all my sisters were in it. I look like I'm about fourteen, and if my hair was white, I could pose for a barrister in Britain. Also, the clothes were absolutely delightful. I laughed when I saw it and tried to share it (unsucessfully, because my Facebook settings are ridiculous about privacy right now) with some close friends...

If you know me at all, you will understand why this is monumental.

If you know me at all, you will know that I have not shared photos showing me between age 12 to the present. I began showing current photos online about six years ago. And if someone else posted a picture of me taken prior to that, but after I was twelve, I removed the tag and refused to let it be seen publicly.

It had nothing to do with being ashamed of how I looked and everything to do with not being able to look at myself. It made me uncomfortable. My brain would say, "That's you," but I couldn't feel that it was true. The person in the picture was a stranger--a person completely detached from me, and her life had nothing to do with mine.

But my sister posted the picture--and I REMEMBERED! I remembered being that person and having that hair and wearing those clothes. I don't really recall much more about that time, but when my brain said, "That's you," I responded, "Yes! Yes, it is! Look how funny I was! Look at my sisters! That's a picture of me with them!"

And then I cried, of course, because it was a little confusing and overwhelming and sad and happy all at once. I'm pretty sure all this sounds ridiculously trivial, but to me it's enormous because I saw myself and I knew it was me--and I wanted to share that part of me with someone else.

It's a pretty big deal. You can take my word for this.

Friday, March 22, 2013

Listening to "Breakfast in America" because it seems appropriate today...for no reason.

DJ is making spudnuts tomorrow. He invited my brother and family, and Adam to come to his apartment to help with the making and eating. I am not invited.

This is not because DJ doesn't love me, nor because he doesn't want me to come. It's because he knows I don't like donuts. Adam said I could come anyway because it will be fun. I thought about it, then I realized: I don't want to.

Five years ago I would have crashed the party--invited or not. And I'd have helped with the making and even tried some of the eating. Today, I recognize I'm just too tired. While I've definitely been recovering and feeling more like myself, that happiness draining emotional fatigue still lingers. My tolerance for people is not what it used to be. And my ability to give support is pretty much nonexistent. When I'm with people I want to be held and coddled and taken care of.

Yes, I have become that annoying, icky person.

Yesterday I called a friend and cried because I was having a bad day. Did I ask about his day? No. Did I make sure he was having a good day before I dumped on him? No. Did I care? I would like to say, "Of course, I did! He's my friend and I love him!" But probably the truthful answer, in that moment, is,  No.

I'm not sure how I feel about this, what to do about it, or even if I want to do anything about it.

Still, I don't feel sorry for myself when I'm not invited to family things. Instead, I feel relief, so clearly I'm not offended. I increasingly desire alone-ness (which would not tally with the things I told my online chat person last night--but that was then--it's not last night anymore).

This could have something to do with the following:
1. My house is in complete disarray. We had to move all the furniture and box up my studio so that we could have the main rooms painted three weeks ago. And everything is still boxed up and moved weird places because now we're waiting on carpet to be installed. Yay for new paint and carpet. Boo for disarray.

2. I'm doing enormously difficult therapy crap right now. And if you're thinking to yourself, "Is this person EVER going to stop needing therapy? This has been going on for years!" the answer is, I will probably be in therapy for the rest of my life because I'm that messed up and it's 50% due to things that happened to me during my life, and 50% due to just being Samantha. And if you know me at all, you understand exactly what I'm saying. And Therapist said no one works as hard as I do to learn ways to live with being someone like me--whatever that means. Regardless, please don't judge and just remember, I'm trying my best to be as normal as you are. It's not easy.

3. Tabitha is coming home for an extended stay next week. She'll be here for seventeen days. I feel many different things about this, but mostly I'm fighting myself every second so I don't stack up work project to do while she's here because that's my impulse. Make what you'd like of that. I love my daughter. I'm excited to see her. I'm also very stressed about spending that much time with her. I know she's ready. I'm not. It doesn't matter because this is going to happen. Next week.

So today I'm doing things for me. It's selfish and I don't care. I'm going to the library and I'm going to find several books where everything ends happily and maybe I'll read them all today. I will play Chopin and Beethoven and Debussy and Prokofiev until I'm tired. For dinner, I will make fun to eat food that's colorful and delicious. Tonight I will watch one of my favorite movies...or maybe Scooby Doo cartoons...or maybe I'll just play Facebook games.

But first, I have to work. And doing work is a much better option than wandering around my house, wondering what's wrong with me. Much better.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

"Not a shred of evidence exists in favor of the idea that life is serious." ~Brendan Gill

I suppose it's fair to say that I haven't written for awhile because I've been experiencing some things I would rather not. It's also fair to say that some of those things are just BAD, but others, while they might not feel great, are probably important.


1. I had my second set of injections in my iliopsoas tendon (Who knew I had such a thing? And good luck pronouncing it or using it in common conversation with a non-medical person). There was some relief but nothing like what was hoped. Then I started physical therapy--the thing my surgeon was thrilled to have me choose, but also warned me that most people opt for surgery over the PT because it HURTS. He wasn't kidding. Not only that, but after a few weeks I noticed no improvement and marked UN-improvement. I sort of lost the ability to walk more than a few feet and sleeping at night was not happening.

2. I had a tooth crack down into the root. And then it got infected. So I had a face and a half. And a very, very large half of neck. And a fever. And enormous pain. So my dentist gave me antibiotics and took and x-ray and said, "We'll take that tooth out when the infection's gone (which will be in a month), and then we'll do a bone graft (bone graft?) from a cadaver (CADAVER???), and then we'll wait a few months for that to grow into your jaw. Then we'll give you an implant (Does this mean I'll be without a tooth until then? Yes. Yes, it does. So I can grow dead person bone into my jaw)." I'm a lot horrified, in case you cant tell.      

3. I've been struggling with maintaining the integration I worked on so intensely for more than a year. The impulses that drive dissociation keep popping up. They cause me confusion, aggravation, and stress--but mostly I'm embarrassed by them because it seems I've been pretending, post-integration, that the dissociation didn't exist--that this is not a part of my life--that I'm "normal" in the sense that I never used that particular coping device. Apparently, denial triggers unwelcome dissociative symptoms. And please don't even ask me to explain because I don't think I can and it makes me feel even more embarrassed, uncomfortable, and freakish. Therapist gave me some homework designed to help me work through this and promised to call me if he doesn't hear from me in the next five years. Awesome.


1. I have hyper-mobile joints. There are advantages to this; for instance, those glucosamine and chondroitin supplements that people ingest to keep their joints healthy and lubricated--mine produce that in abundance and keep me from having things like arthritis and joint pain. And I'm freaky flexible even when I'm injured. It seems, however, that this lovely condition of mine is what has been causing my tendonitis--not the repetitive motion exercises (like running and walking) which are the usual culprits. My savvy physical therapist was the person who figured out the mystery and this is why I've not been responding to the PT we've been working on. And it also means that my hip has been out of place for an unknown period of time (because that lovely flexibility allows my stable joints--like my right hip--to become unstable under unusual circumstances--like falling down an large hill and having to have surgery) and today's activity of putting it back into place was more pain than I wish to think about ever again. However, now I have a different regime which includes elliptical training (which makes me happy) and intense weight lifting and other highly uncomfortable and obnoxious exercises (which do not make me happy and some of which I still haven't done today) designed to stabilize the hip and allow me to run again. Yay!

2. My dentist was nice and prescribed a very large amount of sedative/pain pills for me to take at night for the next month so I'll be able to sleep until the tooth is removed and the bone replaced, at which point he'll prescribe a stronger pain killer because apparently this is really going to hurt. Yay!

3. I started the integration maintenance homework and hated every part of it. But I'm blessed with a few friends who don't think I'm a freak and who allowed me to talk about it. They also reassured me that they like me no matter what. I believe Tolkien Boy's words were, "Well, whoever you turn out to be, I like you very much." That's nice to know. I'll probably ask him to say it again. Fortunately, neither of us seems to be annoyed by repetition which is why our conversation has lasted nearly seven years. And Brozy sent me chocolate. All kinds of chocolate. Some was very nice, some was interesting but sort of weird, and one kind was just terrifying. Who thinks of Beef Jerky Chocolate? Who? However, she assures me that chocolate is the best fix for tooth ache and I must admit that even the Beef Jerky Chocolate sounds better than a cadaver bone graft. Yay!

So things are going. Don't ask me if that's good or bad. I don't know the answer.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

I Don't Need You Anymore

I know. The title is obnoxious. However, it is also, in some ways, true.

When I began therapy more than seven years ago, I didn't need anyone. I believed if Darrin left me for any reason (and I really did believe he would) that I would be fine. Not at first, of course, but with time  life would continue, I'd find things to fill my time everything would be all right.

One year into therapy I confessed to Darrin that I actually WOULD NOT be fine if he left and he, very surprised that I even thought about that, assured me that he wasn't going to. Then I began to make connections with other people in my life. And as I did so, I felt myself bonding with them in ways that felt essential to my daily living.

Some of those people stayed for awhile, then bowed out of my life, causing me all sorts of aggravation and turmoil. Others stayed longer. A few are with me still.

For a few years (I estimate three or four), I felt that I couldn't manage most of what was happening in my life without having some of these people to lean on, to talk to--I depended on them to help me through most of the stress and agony I was wading through. Each filled a unique and important need even if their time with me was fleeting.

Last year I realized how dependent I had become. And I hated it.

I am actually a very independent person. While I understand how unhealthy it was for me to live for a long time without making intimate connections with people, I also loved the way I felt about myself. I didn't have to worry about how I was treated. I never wondered if someone would snub me or leave me out or abandon our relationship--because I had none. It was an infinitely safe emotional state of being. I found myself longing for a return to that in recent months.

Then I remembered a couple of incidents that brought my reality into focus. I remembered years ago, when Darrin was often gone for long stretches of time for work, feeling a gnawing emptiness I could not identify. And one day, when the gnawing had become all-consuming, I fell to my knees and cried out loud, "I'm lonely. How can I be lonely?" and I experienced in that moment an extremely rare occurrence of weeping. Then I got to my feet and cleaned my house because that's what I did when life felt out of balance, and within hours I was myself again.

I remembered watching small groups of women shopping together and wondering why they were doing that, and I recalled an incident when I was an elementary teacher, watching a colleague as she distributed small envelopes to some other teachers--the kind of envelopes that contain invitations to parties--and feeling a sharp pain inside when I was not included. Then I realized that I was always invited to many parties, showers, get togethers (attendance at which I never enjoyed--but I went anyway and was delightful--because that's what you're supposed to be when attending a social event) and there was no reason for the feeling, especially when I found out later that they were assignments for our next staff meeting. My envelope was sitting on my desk. I was left feeling confused and upset at my irrational reaction.

So as I thought about the dependency I was feeling, I decided maybe it's okay to rely on people you love to a small extent, but it needs to be a reciprocal relationship. I suppose that's what led to the recent discontinuance of a few relationships in which it was clear I needed those people but they no longer had need for me. What I believe is that people who don't need each other tend to associate, but they don't really connect. I need connection.

As I've grown stronger in the past few weeks, I've felt my need for the people I love fluctuating. There are days when I want them with me constantly (no, I don't follow up on this--I'm not stupid), or I don't think about them at all. I believe the times when I don't think about them are a response to my need for independence. I don't see it as a healthy thing, but I do see it as necessary.

Today I realized that I feel more level. I'm no longer vacillating between "AHHH! Don't leave me! I need you!" and "Go away, please. I don't want you anymore." I also recognized that I don't feel stressed when no one is talking to me. I'm not waiting for someone to come online or call me or send me a text. In fact, I'm not waiting at all. I'm just doing my work, playing Scrabble, singing randomly, and thinking about things that make me laugh.

So....I really don't need you anymore, at least, not in unhealthy ways. I think I'll always have needs that only certain people fill, and when life becomes crazy I'm sure I'll need to talk with the people closest to me and ask for their support and love. Right now, however, I'm okay just spending time with me.

That being said, interruptions from the delightful people who share my life and love are always welcome.

Monday, March 4, 2013

"The great thing in the world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving." ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

The birds are migrating through out town once again. They pause in my yard to eat the old crab apples and rose hips and the noise is heavenly in a cacophonous way. It reminds me that spring is coming, although I still must wait at least six weeks to see any signs of it.

I have been unceasingly cold this winter. Adam gifted me one of his heavy sweatshirts to layer over my own, which is good because without it our heat bill would become enormous. Darrin says it's because my metabolism slowed when I stopped running every day. He's probably right, but that is definitely not something I want to think about. I just want to be warm.

During the past year I have been fighting a number of things in my life I don't remember encountering before. I've been increasingly disinterested in most everything--even things that ought to be alarming or upsetting. I've felt no drive to work or create or do anything beyond getting up in the morning. I've had days filled with exhaustion. But the worst has been the feeling that I might not be good enough or smart enough or skilled enough to complete the tasks I've done for years. These all feel odd and uncomfortable. I'm unused to any of them and I don't like them.

In November I began feeling stirrings of needing to work more hours. For me, this is not necessarily a healthy thing, but it's also normal. I recognized that some of my stamina was returning. I had told my tax clients I would not be preparing taxes in 2013. I had trimmed down my jobs to only two part-time (approximately 10 hours weekly), and I had only five piano students.

When my strength began returning, I changed my mind about tax preparation and registered to take the necessary IRS exams. This meant studying through December and taking the exams the Saturday before Christmas--and I was still very tired. The stress of this caused me some uncomfortable moments when I was visiting friends prior to Christmas, but I survived, and I took the exams, and I passed.

I also applied for an online job similar to the one I lost in August due to my inability to concentrate and complete productivity/quality requirements. The new job required me to read and ingest information from their 200+ page guidelines, then pass two very long (oh--so long) exams. Again, passing the exams and remembering the information was a struggle, but I did pass and land the job.

In January I contacted five students on my waiting list and added them to my studio. For now, 10 students is enough. Last week I contracted to teach a class at the university in the fall.

It sounds like I'm doing the workaholic thing again, and there is definitely an element of that. But for me, what this says is that I'm getting better. I'm excited to begin teaching my class in a few months, and I finished all my corporate clients' tax returns last week (and the deadline isn't until March 15th!), plus a few non-corporate tax returns. I'm enjoying my online job--it's not causing me stress. I love my new students and am enjoying the accompanying jobs I've taken. I've actually worked with the clients in the finance business I share with my dad (Bless my father! He took over everything a year ago and has continued to allow me to draw a salary while doing very little--and he's never said a word to me about not coming to the office or being late on some commitments I've made to him. He's amazing and I adore him!), and finished up several tasks I had left behind last year. In short, life is beginning to feel like life again.

This week we'll go visit Tabitha for her birthday, and I have painters coming on Thursday (I'll be gone, but I have to make sure the house is ready for paint), so I've crammed my work week into three days. Four months ago this would probably have made me comatose. Today it feels fine--notice I'm blogging this morning when I have a bajillion things waiting for me and I'm not having a panic attack.

For the first time since August, I'm excited to see my daughter without the added anxiety I've experienced in the past months. It feels simple and uncomplicated and also for the first time, I've found myself making mental preparations for when Tabitha comes home. Prior to last week, the thought of having her come home made me incredibly stressed and panicky. Today it feels natural and right. I believe in the coming weeks, I'll even experience anticipation for the time when she returns to us.

I will admit, even recently there have been long stretches of time when I didn't believe I could ever return to the person I was. It seems I was wrong. This is one of those rare times when I'm very glad to be wrong.

Saturday, March 2, 2013

Hope is the dream of a soul awake. ~French Proverb

Today, for the first time in two years, I left work this afternoon and I was not exhausted.

I know--no big deal. People do that every day. But I've been so tired emotionally, that any kind of exertion leaves me depleted. Well, it used to.

I've been feeling this coming, but not counting on it because for the past couple of years I've tried to rebuild and reinforce, only to be hit by one more thing. Not today, though.

I wanted to call every person I know and tell them about it. Fortunately for them, I restrained myself.

I even made dinner, went on a date with Darrin, then came home and worked for a couple of hours and I still feel okay.

Maybe my super powers are returning. It's not impossible, right?