I was here. Probably sweating, possibly tipsy, and definitely screaming with everyone else each time we (frequently) screwed up a play, handed our opponent a gentle first down, or left every door in the house open for the other team to rush 70 yd to a touchdown right in front of the student section (how’s my lingo guys? Ready for ESPN??).
That evening, I was here. Don’t ask me about this face, I thought I was super creative in the moment for also getting my watch in there with my time. Also, no way are you going to get a flattering picture after running 10 damn miles. I was proud and needed to commemorate the moment. The caption was appropriate:
“Selfie because holy moley I can still run 10 miles and I am feeling pretty darn accomplished. #justwhatineeded #happyweekend”
Holy moley indeed because I biked 5 miles yesterday and about died. This was also likely before I became comfortable with swearing on social media. Professional me can clean up in a jiffy, but regular me enjoys coloring my language with appropriately placed expletives.
And three years before that?
My booty was lookin’ mighty fly in some spandex. And we were also running in our City cross country meet, where we dominated like the bosses we were and took first through fifth. (Still, my butt looks good, no?) Yours truly with the stump legs came in fifth behind my gazelle-like teammates, and I was ecstatic enough to make both a facebook status about it and also change my profile picture, so obviously, a big deal.
Why am I laying this all out? I know you aren’t that interested in my daily activities, and they weren’t anything earth shattering (though still meaningful for me, personally).
Because I miss it. So far, today’s list of exciting activities have included canceling a Skype meeting with a career coach because I’m tired (tired is code for about 10 different things I don’t feel like listing out). Calling one doctor to get a prescription changed around in anticipation of some upcoming events, calling another doctor to schedule an appointment for next week, and then calling the place where I was going to do the Skype meeting to tell them I won’t be needing the reservation. Sprinkled around in there were a few cataplexy moments. About a half hour after all of this, I took much needed nap #1 and was out like a light.
What a difference six years makes. Hell, even two weeks ago I drove six hours (for a trip that should have taken two…) and took care of my equally addled and afflicted best friend (we’re chronic illness besties, be jealous) in atrocious traffic and toasty weather. My single nap of the day was more like a 15 minute half-awake meditation, taken before making the journey home, and I was peachy. What the hell is this??
Key to success: do not get angry at the disease/illness/affliction/whatever. It knows you’re mad, and wants you to react simply because it can react MORE. It can, it will, and probably has more than once, and then you’re thrown into the pity cycle of the washing machine – no drying.
Knowing the keys to success and using the keys to success are two different things. Frequently, I seem to lose my keys. After frazzling about, cursing, and getting something done (usually making it 100x more difficult than it needed to be), I typically find them. Right where I left them (usually on my person), ready to be used. So, today is not so swell, but that’s it. Just not so swell.
To make it more swell, I’m writing
And listening to snappy music
Makin’ some (OK maybe only one, let’s not get too ambitious) fancy dog toys like the one seen below with the model Miss Charlie: