Ooooh gosh. So sick. Can't stand it! I feel closer to knowing the full definition of physical hell every minute. I had a pretty bad asthma attack today for no good reason. My lungs decided to close up shop for a good minute, then spasmed for the rest of the day. When I mean closed up shop, I mean I could not breathe at all. Not a mite. Open mouthed and wide eyed, I fall into full panic. No thoughts, not even fear. You're clear during these times - breathe!
I tried to relax, relax.. my nails dug into the couch, my back and chest were infested with insects of pain and fire and panic. From the bottom of my chest to the top of my back, the pain is so intense. The pain! There needs to be a new name for that kind of pain! Sweat pours out of me, so much to soak through my tshirt in a couple of minutes, like I've been swimming laps or running up a hill in full Summer heat. Then, there it is, a breath, a single breath - my eyes pour out tears, Alice's tears that fill up and threaten to drown one's dignity. I cry and sob, knowing that my lungs could have decided not to open up. They could have stayed closed, how about that? Ha-ha (Nelson laugh) to my enemies!
On top of a friggin asthma attack from Painland, my pain's generally been worse, I think I have an ear infection, and a stomach bug of some sort. I hate stomach bugs. Intestinal bugs, fine, but leave my goddamn stomach alone.. it's where the goddamn pills go!! So tired.
But, as there always is a but in such sad posts, I'm okay. I'm hopeful, I'm still burning that inner flame brightly. All this pain and I'm still okay, that means something. I'm not brilliant and hop-skipping down the street, but I'm okay, and that's fine. We can't be greedy with our expectations, that's a might sweet way of getting yourself laid by Unmet Expectations, and getting preggers with Grumpiness. I hate leaving posts sounding like I'm giving up or that I'm beaten, and whatever foe I fight has won. Ha! Whatever. The callouses (sp, why isn't this in the spell checker??) on my soul are growing thicker, and I can get closer to the fire each time.
More like it makes me stronger. Every time the pain gets worse, it's like I get sent down into this deep hole for a few hours - hours of exasperation and anger and frustration and fear.. and then when I emerge, I'm okay. This doesn't come by itself. I usually meditate, read something inspiration, watch something inspirational, create art, play games, call friends, talk to family, hug, and a long list that I can't possibly write out.
Momentum must be started, that first domino falling, in order to dig out of the deep pity holes we have. It won't just come from the sky and rain down glory and candy when I'm down, so it's time to get spunky, creative, and time to stick up your chin and leave a big fat flaming bag of dog poop to the wardens of the pity cage. They sure can beat the hell out of you, but once your resolve comes in with a cake (baked in is an iron file of course), they're screwed ;)
-The picture is one I took yesterday, it's of a flower in my butterfly garden.