I love America holidays. All the years spent working retail made winter holidays, well, not so much fun. So I made my consolation for gritting through Black Friday frenzies and extended Christmas hours a big fat rollicking Memorial Day, 4th of July and Labor Day. Of course as illness consumed my life a big fat rollicking anything ceased to exist, ever, but I have worked relentlessly to get some of me back. Well this weekend just past I put all that hard work to the test. My husband and I packed Yorkie & Porkie snug as two bugs in a rug in the backseat of our car and took off on a little getaway down highway 10 to the Pacific ocean. Home to visit loved ones we left behind many years ago and just don't get to see all that often.
Friday night was great. Of course I ate too much, drank too much wine and stayed up far too late engaging in scintillating conversation. Saturday morning arrived with a rush. Oh man was I slow moving! Molasses me finally got it together and we took off to a friend's graduation party, late and racing the clock. As we sat there stuffing our faces with tacos I realized we were expected elsewhere in two hours for another meal. Gluttony seemed a certain future destination, but intent on living in the now I stuffed down the out of control feeling sneaking up on me. Relax, I told myself. Enjoy the action packed day for what it is, you just don't get that many of them. On Sunday I found myself exhausted, sitting at brunch about to face plant into my bowl of fruit. With a cup of coffee in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other, I knew the push to get through this one was gonna cost me. And it did.
But it was worth it, for this girl was in dire need of some fun. A break from the monotony of my life, the seriousness of illness, the frustrations of just not being able to keep up with with the world at large. We rolled back home Monday night and I was so stiff and sore I could barely make it up the stairs to my peaceful little cocoon I call home. However for once I am not angry at the aftermath of my vacation. Not yet ready to reside in the land of the normals, three days later my
head is still reverberating with clutter, my senses jammed up and
overloaded. Yes the price I pay is steep, but with amazing clarity I realized how far I have come. I could not have done half of what I did even a year ago. All the hard work to get this illness managed funneled into one weekend showed me life can still be lived, experienced and enjoyed. It was a whirlwind, and man am I glad to be back in my controlled environment, but I had a blast and gained some perspective so consider it one more step of success in this battle so hard fought and won.
Thanks for joining,
Leah
I know exactly where you are coming from. I was diagnosed when my kids were 3 and 6. Even though it's been 12 years, I still push myself to make sure they are happy. Since they understand alot of what I go through they often scold me that I do too much. But, the look of happiness & gratitude on their faces makes all the punishment my body doles out after the fact sooo worth it. Even though we know we'll pay, it's a great feeling to live like a "normal" every now and then.
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