Do you ever think back and go “how in God’s name did I get here?” When Kevin became sick, I asked myself that. When Kevin died, I asked myself that. When I was working through widowhood at 24, I asked myself that. Now, I ask myself that again as I’m facing back surgery, how did I get here?
I feel like, ever since returning from Camp Widow, heck, even before that, that life is in an altered state. I returned from a music concert and then tweaked my back a month ago. Hard to believe I’ve been dealing with a numb leg for 4 weeks now. My life kind of stopped. Not really though. I continued working, continued travelling, continued doing more than I know I should be doing.
I wonder what part of me can’t just stop? I can’t just give in to a broken body? I can’t just let go of “obligations” that I place on myself. I have a lot of questions to answer, some of which I’ll be working on in therapy tonight, some of which I just need to face now that I’ll be off for a few weeks post-surgery and literally can’t do ANYTHING.
Do you have time to smell these?
What does it take you to stop and sit and smell the roses?
