I work hard at being a totally positive individual; but that said, I truly am not constantly a sunshiny person. I have bouts of anger, disappointments and hurt, but it is the positive attitude that sees me through it all and keeps me stable and well. I enjoy life immensely, and I strive to make it as good as I can for myself and those around me.
I used to look at my face in the mirror, and wonder how did I ever get to looking so terribly sad. Being in possession of one of those stress testing cards, I could never, ever get it to be anything but black. Had to give up on it, as it was becoming a stress factor in its self.
I had been trying to leave a greeting on the answer machine at work, but each time I tried and played it back it sounded like I was contemplating suicide. After several days and my boss getting on to me about procrastinating, I finally waited until no one was in the office and tried to complete this hopeless project.
I made myself smile and laugh a whole bunch, then I recorded the message. I must have erased, smiled, and ha ha ha laughed my head off and recorded that message five or six times, but I finally did get a fairly decent greeting of positively you'll love this place attitude.
You know how it is when someone greets you and asks you how you are, and they really don't want to know how you are...it's just a polite greeting? My comeback to those greetings became I'm fantastic, great, on top of the world; even if I had a splitting headache, depression from an argument, or worried about not enough money for the rest of the month.
And you know what...everyone believed me, and said that was wonderful. Heck, I said those greetings so many times that I started believing them myself...and that is when a positive attitude began to get a bit of a grip on me. Happiness rubs off on you and others around you and chases off the die hard negatives.
I used to hate my life, marriage sucked, everything drove me crazy, and I felt so truly smothered in grief and self pity. Changing my attitude was one step, but I had to accomplish something else before I could feel any kind of contentment. Acceptance. I hated that word. It meant giving up. It meant living with crap when there was nothing else I could do.
Took years to understand that acceptance is just letting people be who they are, and things what they are...and not taking everything so personally. It is why I still have a decent relationship with my mom, why I'm still married after 23 years, why I can walk through hell without it destroying me.
If you read my old post, The Trekking Poles...while written more as a comedy, it marked the beginning of years of health problems for me. I already had a hidden foot problem and that hike bruised it badly, then it was shoe inserts and walking barefoot only on carpets. Hips were thrown out of balance, and that took a very long year to correct.
Walking was my enemy during that time of healing, but I had to walk. Husband was still at home, and he took care of all the things I couldn't do. He was wonderful. This year my right knee hyper-extended, nothing spectacular, just gave way as I walked to the kitchen, and it has been nearly impossible to return to a normal life.
Husband's not here to help this time around. Throw into that mix the tendency to get excruciating tension headaches accompanied with stiff neck and/or pinched shoulder blade, and you're beginning to see how many of my days evolve if I am not careful.
Lots of problems out there with people that have it so much worse than me by a long shot; but these are my problems, they affect me a lot and they are pain to me. Most of my yard has become a weedy nightmare, as doctor has been threatening me with surgery if I keep re-hurting my knee.
I was finally improving and close to walking normal, then THUD...stubbed big toe on base of cat tree in my workroom when my brace was off (of course, nothing ever happens when it is on), and jarred my knee so badly that we thought I was going to be a candidate for knee surgery anyway. My body takes its time in healing, so several months later I was once again walking near normal.
That is until last week, when I didn't quite lift my right foot high enough and stubbed it on the concrete steps outside...foot stopping, but rest of me just kept going. There I was lying across those concrete steps with the skin scrapped off the bottom of my hyper-extended knee, grove line scratches across elbow, thigh taking the brunt of the blow, instant excruciating headache, and I was panicking, the only thought in my head...my knee, my knee, is it okay?
I think it's the only time I have ever been so thankful for chubby, flabby thighs. Of course, things like this only happen after hours, so not much sleep that night with that gawd awful headache and an achy breaky body. Chiropractor thumped me back into place the next morning, and I am sort of near normal with mostly a problem of swollen leg and ankle that feels like my skin is going to pop open at any minute.
I'm sleeping on my back through most of these painful times, so I don't screw up my knee even worse. I sleep badly on my back. Waking up with a headache is a given if I have been lying down more than 4 hours, and I cannot always shake it off before the end of my day. I hardly ever get enough sleep. Most of my nights are 4 hours or less. I was sick this week, mostly, I think from so much lack of sleep. What I would give for 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep with no headache at the end of the 12th hour.
Managed to do half a day of light work in the gardens, but so much cleaning up that only 3 plants finally were tucked into their place for the winter. That leaves 11 to go. Sometimes, where I imagined a plant will work in theory when ordering, just doesn't quite work out in reality. I'm stuck racking my brain for a substitute plan, and a solution isn't always just around the corner.
25 lily bulbs...why did I ever think I could find places to tuck in 25 lily bulbs? I must of had a true senior moment of temporary insanity. I'm not feeling all that great at the moment, so tomorrow will likely see the rest of plants just resting on the deck for another day.
Been thinking about writing a post on clipped wings and myself, but there are people who will read it that shouldn't read it. That means I have to edit things out of it. I don't like chopping my thoughts all to hell. I want it to be true to myself, so I haven't a clue as to how I will handle it or if I will handle it at all.
Writing would be less complicated if there was only me, myself, and I to consider, but then I think it would not be as colorful and exciting. I don't like being bored, and my life has definitely been anything but boring, from birth until now.
Clipped wings was something I just grabbed onto as I needed an alias...it just popped into my head. What probably took others minutes to do, took me hours to do, as I tried to set up my blog to perfection...what a crock!
Upon retrospect there are always real reasons why we choose what we choose, and I do feel like my wings were clipped when I was so very young, and for many reasons I never grew new feathers to fly into the heavens. I don't know if I want to fly there any more. It would mean changing things in my life that are truly good, and I have learned to hop around quite a bit and take short flights fantastically well.