I awake to the scratching of Daddy at my bedroom door. With that my awareness goes to my heavy head and leaden legs below my kneecaps…every inch of me is tingling and vibrating this morning.
How will this day play out physically. How to walk it. My urge is to run and do all the things on my “list” and not get caught up in my brain fog and weakness.
I want to walk the boardwalk. Then go. Walk a bit then come back home… monitor your morning and move with grace (awareness) through the day. Do not give in to the pull of defeat. Push your limits some – see what is possible today. Dream of things to come…
Seriously I’m not really sure what I’m writing…
Grief journey to body journey. Mourning the mortality of life and my inevitable demise and those I love around me and my inablitlaty at this time to fully engage with my desires, needs and moments of time. I’m certainly learning to accept the moment as it is in all it’s perfect now – complexity held in two hands.
I don’t recognize this body that hums, runs out of steam quickly and is unsteady as a ship in a storm. How to interpret this time – this moment – when this new medical phenomenon of long haul covid has not answers as simple as setting a broken bone, removing a tumor, bleaching a precancerous mole, going to physical therapy…
2 years after the medical community ineptly ended my husband/lovers life and here I am walking into their lairs for guidance – as if I have to become the expert on this… while paying bills, working, growing older, healing my grief after my life blew up. My path grown over and my feet unsteady as my head is dizzy with … with what… they don’t know… but I will move and find joy … I must… I want… time is short and my boast of being so healthy of no operations of no mediations… can no longer be said with such assurance…
Dad gave me a sense of purpose and a way of making decisions … I am a good combo of mom and dad…