I haven’t named this post yet. Of course if something witty comes to me in the course of this mental exercise in which I seek to clear the cobwebs from my brain bucket and actually get a title up there, then I will be a liar.
Or at the very least viewed with a wary eye. I mean, how would you know if I wrote something as the title before or after I wrote the declaration that I had not yet titled this post? You wouldn’t.
And it doesn’t really matter does it?
No. Not so much.
You know what does matter? Friends. And getting the heck out of my apartment. I found out that both of those were true this week. The week was jam packed. It went something like this… Writer’s Club meeting on Saturday….Mom’s B-Day lunch on Sunday…time to breathe on Monday…Bowling on Tuesday…Writer’s Workshop on Wednesday (which then turned in to Writers eating dinner at City BBQ)…Adult Bingo on Thursday…Bowling on Friday…D&D on Saturday…Brunch with my college roommate from back in the dizzay on Sunday. Somewhere in there (Thursday after bingo, I think) was an hour-ish long phone call with a good friend in NY.
It felt vaguely like….I had something of a life back again.
And it was frickin’ glorious.
You see…I sometimes do this thing where I tell myself (and others), that I’m really OK being by myself a large part of the time (when I’m not at work). And I guess…sometimes I am. But then, as this week proved, sometimes I really need to just be out and doing stuff. Any stuff. I think that’s more true in the winter when the daylight is at a premium.
So…yeah. I may be hanging out more with peeps. Sorry in advance.
And…I got some insight this week…well…a healthy dose of insight, actually. Just to bring every one up to speed and clear up any confusion.
December sucked for me medically. Lots of tests and doctors visits (and at least one more upcoming) that I really wasn’t expecting and therefore probably reacted poorly to.
Here’s the Cliff’s Notes version:
- I don’t currently have liver cancer.
- I probably have Fatty Liver Disease.
- I have Type 2 Diabetes.
I’m fine with all of the above.
Please read that last sentence again. I’m fine with all of the above.
And for you married folks, that’s the single person’s use of the word ‘fine,’ not the married version of the work ‘fine.’ If you don’t know what that means, you haven’t been married long enough.
You see…the first one I have no control over either way. Either I have cancer or I don’t. I don’t currently have it. So there’s nothing for me to spend any more energy on.
The second two came about in a seemingly calculated comedy of errors but ultimately are the result of me falling off the exercise and healthy diet wagon and waving a fond farewell as it ambled down the Oregon Trail.
Yes, #2 won’t really ever be reversed. And yes, #3 is the low side of what even gets counted as diabetes.
I know that I can manage #2 and #3 with a lifestyle change. My diet is now focusing more on lower carbs. And I’m exercising, slowly but surely building that back up.
In short…I’m fine.
It was kind of a mindfuck at first. Honestly, though, it was kind of my own fault. At one point last year I had the thought, “I’ll probably never really get my shit truly together with the exercise and diet unless I’m forced to.”
And guess what? Now I’m forced to. Every morning, the needle prick in my finger tip is a reminder of the power of thoughts. Would this have happened if I didn’t have that thought? Possibly, but damn it makes you think, doesn’t it?
It makes sense, doesn’t it? We are made up of the same elements as stars. And our thoughts are energy. That energy has to go somewhere. And the universe has to have a balance. So, when our thoughts go out in to the universe, something has to give. Something comes back.
Something always comes back.
If you’re keeping score, the title for the blog just came to me. NOW it is no longer untitled.
For all of the kind words and well wishes as I struggled to get my shit together the last few weeks (years?), thank you. Whether I say it or not, each and every person I count as friend is like a pillar of strength.
I’m gonna knock this thing out of the park. By this time a year from know, you won’t recognize me.
I’ll be that Sexy Writer in Apartment 2.
Mind your thoughts, and don’t worry about me my friends–I’m fine.