Waving the White Flag...
This injury is kicking. my. ass. I feel beaten and beat down. I'm tired. I'm exhausted. I'm waving the flag. I'm waving the Spinal Cord Injury flag. Okay injury. You frickin' win today.
Jimmy is also very tired and tired of the "always something." It's so exhausting. I'm being so whiny and I don't care. It's hard. I'm tired. I want to go to bed.
I want to pull four different covers over my head and go to sleep. [Four might be excessive. Will I get sweaty? If I get uncomfortable, it will add to the anxiety. I digress..]
Jimmy has been having a rough patch lately. I have been having a rough patch lately, though they are very different patches. We went to couple's therapy today to discuss how we're holding up through our own things that really do intersect quite a bit. It's tolling to put it all out there and risk coming across like a nag to your partner. But even when things get super tense, our therapist can maneuver us back into friendly waters; he truly has a gift.
Maybe that's why I'm so tired and feel beaten. Cause I therapied myself to hell and back today. Jimmy is napping. He's smart. He knows what's up.
I ate sea-salted chocolate cashews and then swiss cheese and now feel nauseous. Yay, bad food decisions based purely on emotions.
I will be better tomorrow. Almost certain of it. It's always better tomorrow. Or at least different. I will have learned something from the wonderful therapy hell we put ourselves through today and will, perhaps, navigate with a smidgen more wisdom.
Right now I'm going to climb onto the couch under the afghan and take a lesson from Jimmy who is getting a thick nap in. He's got it right.
Come to me afghan. Also, Seinfeld is on. The one with the horse and the beef-a-rino and the marble rye. The syndication Gods are good looking out for The Moores.
Shut up, you old bag.