This past week has been tough. Besides nursing my husband back to health and comforting my precious cat--who died yesterday afternoon--I hurt my back last weekend. Could hardly walk. But in the back of my mind, I was thinking, "This is from stress. Your body reacts before your mind. Listen to what it is telling you." Pretty hard to listen when your back is screaming, but I did think about it.
Yesterday morning, I came to the realization that I have been fighting a world that does not acknowledge those of us with "invisible illnesses." And I need to stop. I cannot enlighten the masses. Pretty narcissistic of me to think I could. I can only focus on recovery. I can only take care of me and stop worrying about what other people think. Everyone has their own invisible demons, mine just happen to be three rotten, energy sapping illnesses.
The cue that this unconscious insight was worming itself to the surface is evidenced by renewed excitement about the book I am writing. Although my writing days are shorter in length and fewer per week, I look forward to making my story people do their job and solve the mystery. They don't require much validation, they don't move in circles, resisting the resistance. They simply require my help to bring them to life and to be smart. That's some good fun.
RIP Indigo--Himalayan, bossy, beautiful, intuitive, smart and my constant companion from 1995-2011. She is playing with a sewing measuring tape, her favorite toy, on the Rainbow Bridge.