Yesterday, you saw the first of my unedited, exhausted thoughts from while I was recovering from surgery. Here’s the other one. Enjoy!
Created February 22
Last night I slept, uninterrupted, through the night for the first time since last April. I tend to wake up naturally anytime between 6 and 7 no matter how poorly I slept, and this morning I woke up around 7 completely astonished. Our bedroom was bathed in soft winter morning light, and the cats were already up, trying to grab the icicles stuck to the outside of the windows.
It was not dark, I was not baking in my own personal sun, and I was not bathed in a light layer of sweat. Holy. Shit.
So I might have exaggerated a little bit. (Me? Never!)
When I stated in my last post that I had started fifteen or twenty blog posts, it felt honest at the time, honestly. I just went through everything I have on Evernote and my email, however, and found the beginning to two posts, almost a full third one, and the idea for six more. Whoops.
One of the reasons that I love writing this blog is that it gives me a chance to express what’s going on with me as I’m actually going through it. I know I could probably re-create some of the emotion from afar, but I’d like to spend that emotional energy sorting through what I’m going through right now, instead of what I was going through in February and March. Therefore, I will take a friend’s advice and just produce the snippets that I started back in February. The other ideas aren’t necessarily fully linear (more generalized experiences that I’m still experiencing) so those will come out in the next few weeks as fully formed babies. But in the meantime, I will swallow my Type-A pride and just give you a taste of what I was going through, in its full exhausted, unedited glory.
Today, the first one. Tomorrow, you get the other one.
Created February 5, tinkered with on February 12
In the last few months, I’ve written the beginning of fifteen or twenty blog posts. After purging the first five or so sentences out of my mind and onto my iPad (if I’d been reading) or phone (if I’d been texting my sister), more often than not the electronic device would the slip off to my left as my cat yawned and stretched on my right, and I would easily and completely fall back to sleep for another four hours. Most days the only reason I would get out of bed before late afternoon would be to pee. By three, sometimes four, I would switch from bed to couch, watch an episode of NCIS or two, pat myself on the back for doing something with my day, and then head back to bed. I wasn’t depressed, I wasn’t sick (for the most part), I was just exhausted. My surgeon’s original estimate of 4-6 weeks of being unable to function stretched to eight, then ten.