My hand is broken in three places, but it doesn’t need to set off metal detectors. I fought for a splint over a cast, knowing that since surgery isn’t needed, there was more to lose by not having mobility (not being able to wash, NEVER being able to type or write) than by not having security (not being able to knock it around, NEVER being able to weight-train). I know that we dodged a bullet here.
Two years ago, there were motivations on her end. This needs to be the last motivation of this year: my drinking, my loose language at work and this. Her trifecta (belief in threes) is complete. My hand being broken, that needs to be it.
Part of me reclaiming healthy is taking care of myself to take care of others. That means using the tools, scaling back the stressors, leaning on my supports (even if they can let me down unpredictably, hopefully temporarily). I got sucked in last week because I wasn’t healthy enough to support who I want to support and be prepared for when the shit gets flung from all directions in my direction.
She needs to do something, I need to do something, we need to do something. Reclaiming healthy is on us – it is fueled by our hopes, our belief and faith, our strength and love and respect, our serenity and courage and wisdom, our unbelievable ability to soar, as only penguins can do.