Yesterday, I was on the phone with my therapist and she was commending me on how well I deal with my illness. Every time I’m in the ER, she gets an email, so she has been worried about me these past few weeks. I told her that the way I see it, I have good days and bad days. And because I have so many bad days, I strive to make those good days into very good days, which is helping fight my depression in turn. She was quite proud of this, and told me I was doing great work with my coping skills.
Afterwards, I hung out with Bernie, then Kevin showed up and we made brownies and watched drone footage of abandoned asylums. After Mark got home, I made pizza and we hung out for a while and watched TV. I took a nice long shower and went to sleep. It was a good day. Maybe even a very good one.
Today I woke up with a stomachache and immediately went full panic attack. This caused me to throw up, which caused me to panic more. It’s a vicious cycle. I took my Xanax and my Zofran and wrapped up in my blanket and begged God for just one more good day.
I fell asleep sitting on the couch, and when I woke up again, I still felt crappy, but I wasn’t vomiting. I took Mark to work. I took a drive to the reservation. I drank a cup of coffee, and when that didn’t come back up, I thanked God for one more good day.
Very good day has yet to be seen. I still feel a little under the weather, and will likely just stick around the house and do some writing. Still, a very good day is possible…I will likely work on my outline for NaNo, and maybe my final proof for my chapbook will arrive so I can look that over. I can send out a few submissions, or if inspiration strikes, write a new poem.
I can open the door to my office, finally, blessedly, and let the sunshine in. I can play my music as loud as I want because my downstairs neighbors are out for the day. I can light my new candle, and maybe watch something on tv if I get bored.
Every day that I can do these simple things is a win. So many days of my life are spent in a hospital, or recovering in my bed. Sometimes it feels like those bad days outnumber the good ones, and that is, at times, unbearable. But I don’t have a choice, see. If I’m going to quit something, I have to be pushed to my absolute limit…but there is no limit on your life. It can go anywhere, so you can’t quit, because what if something great is around the next corner? And I will tell you, oh so many times in my life, there has been a great thing waiting.
It’s the first really nice day here in Buffalo. This Saturday is supposed to be gorgeous, and part of my plan for today is choosing a hiking spot for me and Hubs to hit up this weekend. I am sitting in my office pecking out this blog, but I am distracted, because I want to be outside. I think I will clean up the porch and maybe pull a few weeds. Those are the kind of chores that make me happy, so I will do them as one of those coping mechanisms that my therapist appreciates so much. The little tasks I give myself keep the depression at bay, and make my day feel worthwhile. I appreciate each good day, and I strive to make them all into very good days, so I try to accomplish as much as I can, write as much as I can, and love as much as I can.
Someday, all I will have are good days.
That will be the best day of them all.