The theme of this summer is patience.
Oodles of patience.
Copious amounts of patience.
(Ok, I'll admit, redundant...but I just love the word copious)
Regardless, you get the idea.
I've always considered myself a reasonably patient person. I'm an elementary school teacher, I don't get upset in traffic and my father even occasionally asks to borrow a bit of my patience (this is a win:win situation, let me assure you).
All that being said, I am fairly certain that my "patient pants" are at the absolute bottom of my laundry basket and they need a major turn in the spin cycle.
When I think back to where I was in November-skeletal, unable to walk up a flight of stairs and totally lost as to what had gone wrong in my body-I have made tremendous progress. In fact, if you run into me today, I don't think you'd have any idea of the chaos that lies inside. I look normal, I sound normal and I can do relatively normal things. I have a couple of funny looking scars and a bedazzled frontal tail, but if you didn't know to look for those things, you may never even notice (unless of course, I start beeping and get escorted out of Target...details).
So yes, I am fully aware and incredibly grateful for the progress I have made and for the help I have had getting there.
It feels a bit like I decided to climb a giant mountain. I did a tremendous amount of research on what to bring, where to go and what to do in emergency situations. I set off at a sprint with my backpack full of everything I may need from the best climbing places in the world! I keep climbing and climbing and climbing and then OOF. I plant my feet firmly halfway up the mountain and take on the characteristics of a potted plant. (Ya know, needs to be watered and fed occasionally, but looks exactly the same and never moves a muscle).
And for the record, I would be an orchid. Or perhaps a gardenia.
So I'm waiting.
But what if this is it, my new and permanent normal?
I don't believe that it is. I can't believe that it is.
Besides, my good pal Dory always says to keep on swimming.
So I will.
I mean really, "I climbed half of the mountain and earned this bumper sticker!" is just much too long.
Oh my goodness - do I hear you! Totally different situations and your much longer and more exacerbated than mine. Don't think of yourself as a potted plant. Rather, maybe this point on the mountain is a rather flat trek around...take a breather, take in the view, trust that you'll keep climbing when the path heads up again!
ReplyDeleteMrs. Lyd, think of this as getting lost to the rocks, your know you are on the right trail, but it just may take getting lost in the dark, running down the mountain, only to run back up the mountain, to go get help!Your are a strong women, stand sideways during your rest so you don't slip and when you are ready you will reach the top! 1 hour up, 30 seconds down!Forget that potted plant, you are a daylilly, you spread fast and are full to the point that you have to be thinned yearly!
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