The last few days I’ve been experiencing the good part about sickness. The good part, of course, is how good it is to not feel sick! I slept well and annoying side effects are at a minimum. But best of all, I had good conversations with all those close to me who’ve been having genuinely hard times lately (yes, I feel like the “lucky one” much of the time) – and they all seem to have kick-ass attitudes about their hardships right now! You know who you are.
The burst of relief, renewed energy, and clarity of mind produced some “deep thoughts.” (Some of which are, of course, the Jack Handey variety, but I’ll spare you those.)
Early this year, around the time of New Year’s resolutions, I provided my handwritten journal a very honest assessment of my life at the time. I was feeling like a hamster in a cage. (The “hamster in a cage” simile, in all of its triteness, is perfect because I was, after all, feeling tired, worn, and stale.)
There was Mary: running, trying to keep up, and making half-assed attempts at fixing this or that for someone else – but feeling only worn down. I yearned for a simpler, slower life. Sheer boredom was my goal. My journal shows a list of ways to get organized and into some sort of routine, making way for the boredom to set in. If I could only get rigidly organized, I thought, I would finally find time to do what I really love to do: Read, contemplate life, and write.
Five months later a quick assessment of my progress was laughable. None of the organization or routine had yet begun. I had failed and found myself merely five months’ more worn down. (Those of you aware of my lifestyle have good reason to wonder how it is I could have felt worn down. I have the ideal job with ultimate flexibility, a husband who makes me laugh and likes cleaning house, a grand lot of varied and creative friends, and no desire for any more of the things that money can buy. I know, I know, but trust me: I was emotionally burdened by the hardships of family and friends whom I thought would disintegrate without me. How’s that for ego?)
Fast forward another four months and it now seems all those wishes I had for my life in January have been realized. Funny how we get precisely what we need when we need it. (How many times had I heard that one?) And who can fear a future that apparently holds only the fulfillment of your deepest desires?
Simply put, the list I had come up with for reaching my goal of more time to read, contemplate life, and write was not working. It required too much effort on my part. Life, however, had something else entirely in mind. And life’s plan required little of me, only that I go with the flow. This summer I’ve been involuntarily swept up in some kind of weird growth spurt. Priorities have shifted without my input, permission or effort – and I am here with more time to read, to contemplate life, and to write.
Stay tuned for more on shifting priorities as the unpredictability of Chemo Round III unfolds tomorrow.
The burst of relief, renewed energy, and clarity of mind produced some “deep thoughts.” (Some of which are, of course, the Jack Handey variety, but I’ll spare you those.)
Early this year, around the time of New Year’s resolutions, I provided my handwritten journal a very honest assessment of my life at the time. I was feeling like a hamster in a cage. (The “hamster in a cage” simile, in all of its triteness, is perfect because I was, after all, feeling tired, worn, and stale.)
There was Mary: running, trying to keep up, and making half-assed attempts at fixing this or that for someone else – but feeling only worn down. I yearned for a simpler, slower life. Sheer boredom was my goal. My journal shows a list of ways to get organized and into some sort of routine, making way for the boredom to set in. If I could only get rigidly organized, I thought, I would finally find time to do what I really love to do: Read, contemplate life, and write.
Five months later a quick assessment of my progress was laughable. None of the organization or routine had yet begun. I had failed and found myself merely five months’ more worn down. (Those of you aware of my lifestyle have good reason to wonder how it is I could have felt worn down. I have the ideal job with ultimate flexibility, a husband who makes me laugh and likes cleaning house, a grand lot of varied and creative friends, and no desire for any more of the things that money can buy. I know, I know, but trust me: I was emotionally burdened by the hardships of family and friends whom I thought would disintegrate without me. How’s that for ego?)
Fast forward another four months and it now seems all those wishes I had for my life in January have been realized. Funny how we get precisely what we need when we need it. (How many times had I heard that one?) And who can fear a future that apparently holds only the fulfillment of your deepest desires?
Simply put, the list I had come up with for reaching my goal of more time to read, contemplate life, and write was not working. It required too much effort on my part. Life, however, had something else entirely in mind. And life’s plan required little of me, only that I go with the flow. This summer I’ve been involuntarily swept up in some kind of weird growth spurt. Priorities have shifted without my input, permission or effort – and I am here with more time to read, to contemplate life, and to write.
Stay tuned for more on shifting priorities as the unpredictability of Chemo Round III unfolds tomorrow.
