I’ve been feeling a little brittle lately. Overall, things are good. But it feels as though the bad news has been stacking up- things that, on their own, can be taken in stride but when piled together seem to generate a mire of thick, taffy like substance that is constantly threatening to trip me up.
My classes are coming to an end (already!) and with that comes the inevitability of final exams and projects. This year, it is coupled with the sad knowledge that my time of living and breathing together with my cohort is coming to a close: we will only meet for class about once a month next year, a far cry from the 12+ hours a week we’ve had this year. For myself, I am also keenly aware that this summer will herald the beginning of my doctoral pursuits as I take 3 classes, venturing in to the intimidating unknown.
My pup has been suffering through her kneecap popping out of place almost daily: a consult with a veterinary surgeon has confirmed a congenital defect that will be corrected via a surgery taking place on Wednesday. While her recovery should take place within the next month, I am quietly panicking about the great changes that will take place in that time span. She can no longer recline on the back of the couch, must go back to being crated when my husband and I are not home, and cannot run with the boundless exuberance that comes with her daily tear around the yard. I will have to be on my game, thinking ahead, and keeping my normally trustworthy dog on a tight leash to prevent any sudden movements while she is recovering.
During this time home renovation projects are moving forward, for both myself and for my husband’s family. Their family home was one of the many affected by Hurricane Sandy. Sleeves have been rolled up, FEMA rolled through and out, and it’s time for all hands on deck to begin the restoration process. And I feel as though I cannot commit, or let my husband commit, to the project until I know how my dog is doing. And I feel like the bad guy for holding out on a project that I want to support.
Largest on my mind, however, is the unwelcome fact that good health is a fragile thing. Aside from my own (non-life threatening) irritating chronic condition, there has been a recent awareness that the generation of my parents is beginning to fail, to succumb to a myriad of cancers and sudden deaths. A recent rash of appointments has not yielded good news for many families I hold near and dear.
That all being said, my mind has every right to be in a fragile state. Self care has been exceptionally important over this past month, moreso than I can ever remember it being before. I have a wonderful husband whose hugs and cooking skills have a miraculous way of making me smile, my shoulders relaxing from the tension that builds on a daily basis. My dog’s lopsided smiles and exuberant tail can always get me to stop and take a deep breath. My cohort’s study sessions get me through my academics, and friends keep me immersed in the activities I love.
This, however, got me to full out laugh until tears glistened in the corner of my eyes and my breath came in ragged spurts. And everyone could use a laugh like that, stressed or otherwise. Enjoy