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Being sick teaches you to take life an hour at a time. I don't do that, of course. But I know that's what I'm being taught. I can see tonight that that's what I COULD do. And if I did, I would make it all a lot easier on myself. I went for a walk in the dark rain tonight, letting go of the hours of girls and boys and chatter and discipline and tired eyes and heavy head. As I walked, I realized as a rule I shouldn't open my mouth before I walk. Period. Next, I realized I didn't have to whine to his tired ears that these eyes and this body were through--that I was tired of being tired. I realized I could do this longer. I realized that I could do anything longer if I just took it an hour at a time. Let go of the expectations and just do what I can and be happy with that. To live for the moment, even if it's filled with fatigue. I can still choose whether I fill it also with freakout. It's when I start to panic and swirl and hurl out superlatives at the universe that I get into trouble. That I really start believing I can't be sick this long and I can't do this any more. But then I go for a walk, and my mind clears. Some of it by my will, some just because of the walking and the trees and the rain. And I walk back a little lighter to our apartment, eager to smile at him and tell him that I'll be alright. Regardless. Regardless, ck [2002-06-06]
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