It’s official: I am a ping pong ball in this game called “health.” Went to the orthopedist’s office today, hoping not to hear the word “surgery,” but since my mind tends to loom large that’s all I could think about. Not wanting surgery, but thinking surgery may happen. My appointment started about 40 minutes late, and after repeating my whole saga, the orthopedist said, “Well… I don’t think you have compartment syndrome. I think it’s more of a vascular issue.” My face, it seemed, remained frozen – half happy, half sad. Tragi-comedy at its finest. We talked about running, and… I’m not done yet.
Posts Tagged: problems
I’m feeling particularly angsty at the moment, and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the weather change that’s happened pretty much overnight (nothing new for Chicagoans, however). I find myself really wanting to chill in front of a fire (a bonfire, specifically) and drink hot chocolate and eat smores. I find myself really wanting to sit by the ocean for a while. For someone who doesn’t consider herself one with nature, I think about it an awful lot. And then I remember that foods like smores and drinks like hot chocolate don’t help me to lose weight. And then I… I’m not done yet.
“The music will come together in our life if we keep practicing the parts.” – Melody Beattie I haven’t really focused much on Beattie, lately. I find I don’t have the time, or maybe am being stubborn – though that’s nothing really new for me. Today, she writes about how sometimes life may seem discordant and disconnected. You work and work and work at things, at trying to make your life better, and it still doesn’t flow as smoothly as it should. These are words I need to hear. I’ve been doing things little by little, trying to make sense… I’m not done yet.
A current list of all of my problems: It’s hot. It’s really hot. I don’t get paid til Thursday, and I’m playing an interesting game of monetary chess with paying my bills and depleting my bank accounts. It’s really, really, motherfucking hot. Where did the word motherfucking come from? Why does the computer say that motherfucking is not a word when used as a noun but it is considered a word when used as an adjective? I have to run 5 miles. I say have to, because I have the option not to, but I got some things to prove… I’m not done yet.
Yesterday, I wrote about taking a step back when things become too overwhelming. And then I stopped writing and stopped obsessing, but only a little. That is to say, I took a deep breath, and dropped expectations for the moment … but continued to worry. Lately, I’ve been staying up way past my bedtime, worrying about anything and everything. (Someday, I might take my own advice.) I keep repeating in my head, “accept the things you cannot change… but fuck that!” Why shouldn’t you push? Why should you accept? Is acceptance a sign of maturity? Does it mean I haven’t? Eh…. I’m not done yet.