I Found My Bootstraps

I am working hard to put my life back in order post-strokes and that Prednisone fiasco that made me loony as a loon. I can never quite get it together, never get done all that needs to be done. But each day I get up and try. Then that dark caper depression reared its ugly head and sent me into the tailspin of an entirely different monster. I am a fragile mere days coming out of the worst of it and reaching out for goodness and optimism to define my life, regardless of the pain and anguish and lost opportunity us chronically ill patients are all too familiar with. 

So I woke up this morning after whacking my snooze button a good 4-5 times to a phone call from my husband. "Get up and get going woman!" he says. So we chat for a minute as I rouse myself from my warm and safe bed. I take Yorkie and Porkie on a walk and decide to take my pain-dullers before I attempt a very gentle yoga practice, for it has been a while and I am stiff and sore as can be. Then a phone call comes that does not go so well. I am in tears trying to plead my case, that I am sick and fragile and once again the sobs come pouring out of me. I am so disappointed! I am so angry that my positive and happy day has been blanketed with this unhappy experience and see it flushing down the tubes like it has so many times before.

I blunder around the house for a while, totally off my track, feeling entirely too sorry for myself. Water-works are in full swing. It does not help that I am watching Brenda get blown to smithereens as she is leaving her wedding reception on General Hospital (sorry if I just ruined it for anyone). Then a call comes that cheers me up and I make myself some breakfast and head to Fun House land to see what is going on. While I am conversing with my Fibro-family, feeling so understood and supported, I find the strength inside of me that I need to pull myself up by the bootstraps and reclaim my day. I get prettied up to go run those errands I have been putting off. I accomplish what I set out to do and am driving home, proud that I did not let an upset ruin my entire day. The windows are down and the warm spring breeze is flowing, reminding me of how grateful I am for so much in my life. And as I am driving that darn Celine Dion Titanic song comes on and I start crying again. Reached for the glove box, no tissue, but no tantrum this time either. I think at this point I need to start carrying some Kleenex in my purse.

Thanks for joining,

Leah

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