Gotta crow!

Now, granted, my last few days have not been my finest — I’m hoping that yesterday marked the worst of this spell. The extra dizziness, clumsiness and cognitive “fog” have been bearable because I know that every little flare — regardless of how aggravating and tough to grin-and-bear — cycles out. The resulting fatigue is nasty, but not the worst I’ve known. And I’ve still got a life to be living; I’m more voracious about doing so when my body is not failing me from the challenge.

And, SHUT THE FRONT DOOR. I am happy to announce that (and this was kinda out of the blue for me, mind) that the scales told me I am fewer than twenty pounds from where I was once at my lowest weight, and where I want to return.

Days of discomfort that border on weeping were ones I am now well-trained to pass. And then I was rewarded by a most unlikely source. I mean, when is anyone rewarded by their scales?

I shrug and smile, feeling fairly compensated for one short instance by fate. I am more open to letting myself feel happiness than I have been in years, and, well, I can’t believe it took me this long to find some kind of workable balance (fingers crossed this new mindset lasts!). Tonight I know I have another night of rest before heading out on the TDpW (two days per week) I’ll have of the next five to go visit the chiropractor. Without considering the sheer fact of having neither income nor health care, I’m finding more things suddenly to be happy about. I’ve got everything in life I need right this very minute, and it feels plenty damn good.

In fact, I cannot stop humming Mary Martin’s “I Gotta Crow” from the 1960 musical version of Peter Pan with which I grew up. Let’s end on it, in fact:

I think it’s sweet I have fingers and feet I can wiggle and wag!

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