Connected

I’m reestablishing my life. Internet, TV, phone-all connected. My cats (especially Max) were initially alarmed at the TV-“who’s that? Where are they? What the hell is going on in the strange flat box thing?” After an hour or so of slinking and staring they settled down in my chair with me and napped. They accept what is, these two. And my Max seems to think if Mama’s OK with it, he should be too. So they wriggled in on either side of my legs in the easy chair and slept while I watched a movie and caught up on the news. Of course, once they settled down I couldn’t move, but that’s OK.

I am doing research for a couple of writing projects so I’m glad to have access to the world again. And I’m back to 60+ hour work weeks so my writing projects are going slowly. My thinking is to work as much I can until the really bad winter weather. I think last year was an anomaly, ice and snow are on the way again. If I can work a LOT and put a little money away, I can work on art and writing on the days I can’t get out to work. I’m also trying to make myself get up and write for a specific time every day. My weekly job at the nursing home puts me getting home after 11, and I read for a while before I can get to sleep. It’s tempting to sleep late, but I absolutely despise waking up with only an hour or two before work. I’m too tired to do much when I get home. I can read any time, but writing when I’m really tired hasn’t been working. I’ll try it again, but mainly I want to lose myself in an alternate reality after I’ve spent 8 hours at the nursing home. My feet have healed up and boy am I testing them! So far, the adjustment back to working in a nursing home has been painful. I said I’d never go back, but I’m trying to stay close to home and there isn’t a hospital in Mars Hill. I am wary of private duty, because you never know when it will end. Still, if I could find something close to home I would leave the nursing home. I haven’t done much that is more depressing and sad than working in a nursing home. It reaffirms my decision to NEVER do this. I won’t be dependent, I won’t live the last years of my life being wheeled around because I can’t walk, fed because I can’t hold a fork, diapered because I can’t get myself to the bathroom. It’s not life and I won’t live it.

Being injured also emphasized that my decision is right for me. I knew I would get better, I knew what the injury was and how to treat it. But getting there, from injured to healthy, was painfully slow and I was afraid every day I’d done something permanent. I could not live with that powerless feeling as a way of life. I won’t. I don’t want to be at the nursing home, and if I find something else I’ll leave, but in the meantime I’m using it to shine the light of gratitude on my life. I’m healthy, I’m sane, I’m independent, I’m as free as I can be as a human being.

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My Feet!

I’m at my brother’s house, letting my feet heal before I head back to Asheville. My brother and his wife are long-suffering, understanding and generous. I know he would probably love to see me head back out when I heal up, because he’s such an avid backpacker and outdoorsman himself. He also has respect for my decisions and is probably breathing a quiet sigh of relief. Yeah, he’d love to see me stand on top of Katahdin in September, but he’d also like to see me putting more of my art out, submit my writing and be safe in a place where I’m at peace with myself.

Like I said, he and his wife are rare, wonderful people who I am grateful to have in my life.

My feet still hurt. I have to take some pretty serious painkiller to move around, so I spend a lot of time in bed, letting the tissue rebuild. When I hobble to the bathroom I think of the people I’ve cared for and how they haven’t been able to navigate freely for years. I never want this for an extended period of time. This just reminds me that my life offers me more freedom than I realize, sometime. The prison of bills, of trying to make a tiny bit of money cover necessities and hope there’s enough left over for the inevitable surprise (car trouble, bad weather, etc.) keeps a cell for most of us. I’ll remind myself of that the next time I get angry when the money doesn’t stretch far enough. At least, I’ll say, I’m ambulatory, healthy, and I can depend on myself.

It’s good to be back.