Blessed, Supported, Loved

by

Taken care of.

I could increase the list ad infinitum.

I was blown away by the generosity of my friends, family, fellows, this past twenty-four hours.

So many sweet thoughts and gifts, it makes me want to crawl under my bed and hide.

The I don’t deserve this police are trying to knock down my door, but I keep telling them I’ve moved.

And I have.

Some place into a kind of humility.

A sweet place of grace where I can actually allow myself the afternoon to sit and bask in some sunshine as it comes through the back door of my studio.

To snuggle into my bed, a bed I made again today!

That is progress, making the bed.

To get into that made bed, unmake it a little, and put the soundtrack to Amelie of Montmartre on my laptop and drift off into daydreams of Paris and scenes in the Metro, to actually being asleep, cozy and cared for.

Now, I can also get antsy as fuck and I don’t know how many of these “idyllic” afternoons I can take without running around the house in a panic, but though I am slow to surrender, surrender I am.

The thoughts danced about this evening as I was listening to another share her experience with life and humility, getting right sized, and a small, very small, epiphany–how long I have taken care of others, from the ripe age of three, four, to two weeks ago when I left my last nanny shift since the accident.

Today marks two weeks since I have worked.

So much, and so little (moving), has happened in those two weeks, the GoFundMe (which is still surreal and I am glad I don’t have a hand in doing it or running it, it does freak me out a bit to ask for that level of care), the folks who have consistently picked me up and carted me around town, the new friends I am making, the old friends that I am getting to actually see, the number of people who have come over to my house to hang out, do work, or just sit in a chair and shoot the shit with me, it’s almost overwhelming.

As some one astutely put on my fund-raising platform,

Sit your ass down and heal. Your friends love you.

My God.

I am loved.

I feel a little Sally about it, “you really love me, you really do!”

But so taken care of.

So taken care of, I wonder, well, shoot, what do I have to worry about now?

Just that, sit your ass down and heal.

That is the directive.

Healing takes time and like the crazy person I am, I don’t have time for that, but I have heard, oh too many of them over the last two weeks, horror stories of folks trying to get back to sports, athletics, daily living, or what have you, work, before an injury has healed and done themselves worse and re-injured themselves.

I cannot afford to do that.

I will lose my mind.

So, yes, I will nap.

And yes, I will sit, sitting now, elevating, icing, compressing.

I will also cook soup.

Made a pinto bean and rice stew with purple and gold carrots, chicken, cauliflower, and yes, kale (if I sneak it in with all the tastiness I can’t tell it’s kale, I just feel good about getting some greenery in me), plus brown rice, today.

Made my bed today.

Well, it was made for a minute.

Worked on some data entry.

I will not be continuing forward with it once I have finished doing the service, not my thing, not.

I can do an hour, then my brain feels like it’s gotten a sprain.

Which is great information.

Should I be so inclined to not want to go back to being a nanny, which is not the case, mind you, I know that my career path is NOT data entry.

“Oh goodness,” I told her, on the way to the Inner Sunset, “I have tried so many things, and I am really glad that I have tried going after my crazy ideas, helped kill the fantasy, and get out of the obsession that something, a job, was going to fix me.”

Anyone remember when I was going to be an accountant?

bwhahahahaha.

Oof.

So sorry, I actually have two very dear people in my life who are accountants, and they are amazing, but you know, it’s not the job for me.

Or retail.

I got offered a retail position yesterday.

“You’d be great!  And you don’t have to move around too much,” she said, “and if you need more time to heal, the shop would be willing to wait for you.”

Again, amazing how people are so kind, generous, helpful, but that’s not the fit either.

I do like to move around, which is why the nanny thing is a good fit too.

“Are you going to be ready for the great nanny share-off that week in July?”

One of my families sent me a message today to check in and remind me that I had agreed to do a three family share for the week of July 15th-18th.

I think I am.

As long as I am not trying to do jumping jacks before then.

I will also have had one week back at work, fingers crossed, and will be able to gauge it.

The ankle is healing.

I can tell it is, the swelling is slowly going down, I don’t look like I have fat sausage toes most of the time.

My foot doesn’t look like a dead thing hanging from my leg.

Serious.

There have been a few times when I felt like I was carrying around a rotting dead part of my body.

I kept having these horrid flashbacks to when my family dog got hit by a car and instead of doing an amputation on the front leg, we attempted to try to keep it, but it didn’t heal.

In fact.

It started to rot.

That is a smell I can never, ever, erase from my memory.

Looking down at my foot a few times was like seeing that dead limb on my dog.

It doesn’t look like that today.

Thank God.

And if I follow directions, sit still, let my body heal, and love myself as much as I can, which really means having some humility and accepting the love that is being showered upon me instead of shying away from it, then I know I will come out of this with not only a healthy ankle, but an amazing community of friends, family, and fellows, with whom I get to continue sharing this crazy journey.

The best of both worlds.

Love is the master principle.

 

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One Response to “Blessed, Supported, Loved”

  1. B.E.A. Says:

    ❤ werd

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