I can’t stop smiling on the inside today. Which seems silly, considering that nothing has changed .I’m still sick, single, and broke.
I still had a breakdown last week, accepting how sick I am now. I canceled going to yoga three days in a row because of how much pain I had to manage, and how exhausting managing it was. I’m scarily behind on deadlines.
But I’m smiling.
Because, like I told Poppa on the phone the other day when he asked, “So how’s the big city treating you?” (like he does every time I get him on the line, the cupcake), I told him that while it may sound silly, but I inherited a rug, and that rug makes me happy. I have a home that makes me happy in a part of New York that makes me happy. The simplicity of the word happy makes me happy. I have a dog, and a big bed with a soft yellow comforter, and a corner armchair stacked with too many books I want to read. I have work that I want to do, and things to see.
My spirit is too big for my body right now.
As much as that can be frustrating, that’s an excellent problem to have. Because most of the time when I feel this sick, I just don’t give a damn about anything – work, obligations, friends, life… it all just melts away. A few months ago, when I got back from Portugal and didn’t have the physical capacity to do much, I didn’t care. During my No Sugar Challenge, things got so dark that I didn’t care. I started TeleWonderWoman in January feeling this loss of qi or energy inside of me. I’ve been cultivating it, standing like a superhero, and still repeating my List of Five, and breathing quietly while I blend almond milk, and pondering this idea of not being a disposable person as I hand wash hankies, and now…
I have so much work I actually want to do. That means I give a damn. I miss being out in the world while feeling so happy nestled in the one I’m in.
I’m thankful for that.