I also now have more empathy for those who suffer from debilitating chronic pain. I know that I’ll be better in a few days. Some, like those who have migraines, live with a greater degree of uncertainty. They might not have a migraine today, but they might have one again tomorrow.
I feel like shit. But I have now typed up the two poems that I wrote over the weekend (“Bus Ride” and “Superwoman and Superman become Engaged”) and my Saturday and Sunday dispatches. I have one day left of my self-initiated Poetry Challenge. I won’t do a March challenge because I have a lot of other projects to finish up before I go on vacation. I have to revise my goat poems and to finish my article on Breathing. And I also have to put together a bibliography for the Centered Riding Creativity Clinic.
I am trying hard to rise above it, but with illness has come depression. Right now, it seems to me (when I feel this way) that I’ve been overly optimistic about my future and that I’m going downhill fast. It’s like everything that I’ve strived for is just an illusion. I have spent my entire life reaching for the golden ring on the carousel, and I am now realizing that I’m never going to grasp it. Oh what the hell, it’s most likely made of plastic.
The above are my thoughts on the matter of illness and depression. This is, I know, an instance of situational depression. I am depressed because I feel like crap.
Crumb bum. I was going to do the February on-line agility video with Raudi but it’s snowing again. Big fat flakes are falling out of the sky. Nix this idea. I’m going back to bed.
Next: 59. 2/28/17: The Writing Life: End of the Month Tally