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I’m grateful that I have a half day today, and get to leave after five hours instead of nine!!! :)
Throughout the summer, this will probably be my happy thought every Friday, because my boss lets us make up the missing hours throughout the week (Coming in early other days, staying late, or working through lunch) so that we can all go home at noon on Fridays.) So I still hit 40+, but I get to go home and crawl into bed for a few hours on Fridays and possibly be able to be awake on Friday nights to netflix and chill with my boyfriend and pizza, without feeling like I’m going to die. :)
So... I know when I started this that the project was supposed to be 3 things for 21 days. But, I don’t know how many days it has been. So instead of 3 things for 21 days, I’m going to change it up and just write down at least one thing every single day. Maybe some days I’ll write more than one- we’ll see what happens.
Today, I’m grateful that I have a bottle full of prescription strength ibuprofen because my knees and elbows seem to have been replaced with tight balls of radiating pain. Also, for the chocolate from Austria that my co-worker brought in today from her vacation.
Okay so I was away for the long weekend and therefore haven’t posted in a few days. I missed four days of the be grateful project, plus today means that I need to list 15 things that I’m grateful for, instead of the usual 3. I’m not sure if it works the same way since it’s supposed to be an everyday reminder, but we’ll see.
1: I’m grateful that I had a long weekend!!!
2: I’m grateful that I had a half day on friday, letting me kick off my weekend at 12 and skip the usually 1.5+ hours of traffic that I usually get stuck in during rush hour.
3: I’m grateful that we were able to go up the mountains to visit my boyfriend’s family, getting away from the city for a while.
4: I’m grateful that he drove, while I sat on a big fluffy pillow (constantly altering how I was sitting) for five hours.
5: I’m grateful for the Preston and Steve podcasts, which we were able to listen to during that long drive, rather than getting annoyed everyone we drove out of range and had to find a new music station.
6: I’m grateful that the weather forecast was wrong and it didn’t pour the entire time we were there.
7: I’m grateful that his family and I get along so well so that it was enjoyable and not ‘oh god I have to spend time with his family’. I love being part of their family!! They make me feel more welcome that my actual family most of the time.
8: I’m grateful for his dad’s cooking and the amazing food we had for every meal of every day that we were there!
9: I’m grateful for the alone time that my bf and I got during the weekend for little romantic things like slow dancing in the living room or cuddling on a picnic blanket on the lawn in the middle of the night watching a way-off lightening storm light up the sky.
10: I’m grateful for the pain killers and wine, without which I would never have survived the weekend and the pain that came with the hike I participated in.
11: I’m grateful for my kindle, which allowed me to take my books on my trip for some relaxing alone time when I needed it (at this point, the rest of our group were doing more hikes and things of that nature and were very understanding of the fact that my fibro just wouldn’t allow it.
12: I’m grateful that my dogs -well, mostly just the aussi- were so exhausted that they slept the whole way home, rather than being the chaotic little monsters that they always are in the car.
13: Grateful to come home to my own bed and relax in the air conditioning with pizza and a DVRed episode of Game of Thrones!
14: I’m grateful that afterwards, I got a hot oil massage to relax the knots and stress I put on my body during the trip.
15: I’m grateful that my dogs were somewhat well behaved during their baths last night and we were able to get rid of the awful smell that comes along with letting your dogs run around in the woods and play in the mud.
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I tried. I really did, but I miss you. A lot. I miss talking to you. I know you’re busy and we’d talked about it a litte and it seems like everything is stacked against me/us, but fucking a’ trumpets, I miss you. That I can’t help.
So, take it how you will. From now on, I won’t pretend. I’ll be honest with myself. And if it hurts me, then so be it. I made Project Fort Kickass a reality, so Project Happy is now in full swing. No more.
…
Point: Just… don’t push me to the side because I’d fucked up. Made? We’ll see.
When Emma was younger, she would carefully and slowly roll her body down the two steps of our sunken living room, from the foyer of our apartment. But as she got older, she evolved into scooting down on her bottom, with some semblance of graded control. It was a sight to see. Her four foot, seventy-five pound, lanky frame, propelled itself by pushing off the floor with the back of her hands while simultaneously pumping her legs, in what appeared to me as a painfully uncomfortable movement, much like a caterpillar.
She never did take to the hand splints that were custom-made for her when she was a little girl, to keep her wrists straight, and to prevent the contractures, that partly defined her life. Even as a small child, she was not going to be restrained and somehow always managed to remove the limiting splints--using her teeth to pull apart the velcro. A veritable Houdini.
I marveled at her determination to get to where she wanted to go, with all of her physical limitations, as she would lower her diapered tush, first one step and then the other, bouncing and closing her eyes in anticipation of the not so soft landing.
I would spot her from the corner of my eye, as she would rhythmically make her way to the couch where I would be sitting, attempting to go unnoticed as I would to try to sneak in yet another episode of the Housewives of NY, or Orange County, or Beverly Hills or Atlanta—my one guilty pleasure. Caught in the act, Emma would determinedly pause at my feet, reach for the remote control sitting next to me on the couch, place it, matter of factly, into my hand, and, without skipping a beat, turn her head to look at the television. And even though I always knew how this story ended, I would make an unenthusiastic effort at redirecting her from her goal, by placing the remote control behind my back.
There was no dissuading this persistent, then teenager. Survival was the name of the game for Emma—from the day she was born. With every obstacle that presented itself to her, she would somehow, with ingenuity, find a way of overcoming it, by resorting to the limited skills she had learned over the years.
Precisely the reason she learned to pull herself up on the couch by planting her forearms and elbows into the cushion of the couch and with nothing less than sheer superhuman strength, throw her body up, while pivoting it 180 degrees, so that she could land with aplomb, on her padded behind next to me. The next movement involved her reaching for the remote control behind my back, retrieving it, and triumphantly, and with a deliberate gesture, placing it in my hand once again, so that I could comply with her wordless command, to change the channel to Sesame Street.
It was an impressive battle of wills, and one that I invariably lost—secretly happy that I did.
- See more at: http://bandbacktogether.com/post/4582/#sthash.feWmEa0i.dpuf
