getting there.

I am tired. The past few months have been a steep climb, and I'm never prepared for just how heavy burdens can become if I forget to let some go along the way. At the same time, my new path is unfolding faster than I could have imagined.

It's been a while since my cat passed, but we still miss him every day. That was hard. And expensive. I don't regret the expense. I just figured the dent in our budget would recover in a month or two. Then last week, not even a month later, my tooth broke. One enormous cavity and filling later, my fear of the dentist has been conquered, only much too late. My fear of dental bills--it's only just beginning.

In the meantime, I think I'm finally getting better. Little. By. Little.

Even feeling good feels foreign to me. The emotional scars caused by whatever monster has had a firm and painful grip on my head run deep.  I'm no longer confident in my health, and the occasional mild relapse keeps me from ever being too sure about anything. This type of ailment--the kind with no rhyme, reason, or easy fix--isn't foreign to me. So I know the emotional burden of losing trust in my body's ability to function normally. I know that it's a long haul to trips out of town, finding comfort when I'm out of my element, and relief from the panic that comes and goes after this kind of uncomfortable and sometimes terrifying experience. I've given up on ever receiving a diagnosis. Blood test after blood test, cat scan after cat scan and nothing. At least I know I don't have Lupus.

My part-time job has turned out to be good medicine. I feel useful again, and serves as a reminder that I've come a long way since the first days of vertigo. Numbness in my face. Gone. Crackling in my head. Gone. Feeling like my soul is jumping out of my body as I try to fall asleep. Mostly gone. Feeling like I'm still moving when I'm stopped at a traffic light. Hardly noticeable anymore. Memories of all of these experiences...oh, how I'd love to erase them.

What's back? Thinking about writing. Ideas popping into my head while I'm driving. While I'm in the shower. When I'm having my coffee.

Even better medicine than my job? Feeling loved. Loving people back. Positive thinking. Literally imagining what life will be like when I'm well again. Picturing myself as a non-smoker in preparation for the biggest kick of my life. 

Wait, what? 

Yup. I'm thinking about...no not just thinking about, but planning exactly how I'm going to quit smoking. All of these health problems have been scary, and I've made a lot of lifestyle changes for the better. Yet I continue to reward all of my hard work by poisoning myself.

End game.