Forgetting to Remember

I woke up in a funk today.  It took me a while to realize why I was feeling sad when nothing sad had happened to me--turns out that today is the six-year anniversary of the passing of a dear friend, Cathy Fleming.  It's crazy because I actually spent today's therapy session talking about how lucky I've been to have amazing friends like her, who are so diverse in their beliefs and perspectives and self-expression.  And I'm especially lucky because I've gotten to this place of openess and thankfulness after spending years wanting to be accepted and giving my energies and time to people who weren't the types who could ever appreciate me, my friendship, or, in some cases, what it means to be a decent human being.  And yet, though I thought about my friend during therapy, it didn't even occur to me that perhaps I was suffering her loss today and that's why I was in a funk.  It's amazing how the body can remember our emotional trauma, even when our worries about day-to-day minutae push out the more important thoughts.  Like, for instance, how friendship is a gift and should be cherished, nurtured, and valued.  Or how life doesn't always turn out how we planned.  And (perhaps the most important lesson I learned from Cathy) how, even when things feel crappy, that doesn't mean we have to act crappy. 

Anyhow, I am linking to last year's post about Cathy.  Please read and also considering donating to a good cause.

In closing, here's a video to say "thanks" to all my friends out there!  I love you and couldn't navigate this life without each and every one of you!

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I'm Still Here! I Promise!

Okay, I haven't posted anything since January...  Wowza.  What in the heck has happened to me, you might ask?!  Normally, I'm rantin' ready.  In fact, I had a life-changing moment and I haven't really been to put it in writing yet... I mean, I've certainly verbalized it.  Non-stop.  To anybody who'll listen and join my pity party.  But writing requires a whole other level of energy I just don't have yet.  See, I just found out the reason I've been exhausted and tired and fuzzy and depressed and gaining weight and having itchy skin for the last, well, ten years.  Apparently I have hypothyroidoism, which isn't fatal, but really affects quality of life.  Like, stuff that makes you unable to remember anything, cry all day, and be so bone-tired you weep when the alarm goes off.  So, I'm on the medicine now and attempting to recharge my little thyroid battery.  I'll have to take a pill every day for the rest of my life, most likely, but that's okay.  I know what's wrong, have a plan of action, and I'm already feeling better.  It's all going to be okay.  And, hopefully, that means that I'll be back to writing and analyzing and bitching and moaning and laughing and snarking until all of our little hearts are content very, very soon.

Until then, everybody, rest up, don't be so hard on yourselves, and, last but not least, get your thyroid checked.

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