That's about right: I've been on automatic pilot - and in survival mode - for the past seven and a half years. And when I haven't been struggling to survive, I've been wandering around with my head firmly lodged up my ass. That is the only possible explanation for being where I am now.
I returned from New York a month ago-as my friend from New York reminded me last week. Since I got back, I went for all my appointments (not many, since I seem to be in terrific health, or so I was told by one of the consultants last week-which made me as happy as can be, as you can imagine), but came back and did-precisely nothing. Automatic pilot? I've been like a walking, talking, eating, crapping robot. I get up, do the same thing, head out, do the same thing (mostly wait. It's the NHS: hurry up and wait. For hours. And the NHS will be history, sooner rather than later).
So I decided that I am clearly depressed. No kidding: after all I've been through, without really processing it all at the time, no wonder I'm depressed. And it's November. I'm always down for the last quarter of each year. It isn't SAD, the trendy disorder where people get down because there is so little light. I've diagnosed myself: I'm down because I feel like I haven't accomplished anything.
What on earth-said my friend from New York-do I expect? To end poverty? Find cures for all cancers-and all other diseases - HIV, hunger, homelessness, domestic abuse, genocide, homicide, suicide, and, of course, while I am at it maybe I could take the time to write that best-selling novel...
I had to smile at that-I still have a sense of humor after all this time, since it is my coping mechanism. And it usually works-not always, but most of the time. This time, it did.
Thanksgiving is on Thursday (Happy Thanksgiving, in case I have one of those pre-senior moments and forget to write tomorrow. Or whenever). So I have decided to take the day, celebrate with a traditional Thanksgiving dinner (doing my best not to burn the turkey or blow up the kitchen. I did well last year, so I should do even better this year).
There will be a turkey-so there will be turkey salad, turkey sandwiches, turkey burgers, and turkey soup-for at least another week, and I will be glad to see the back of anything turkey - until Christmas, when it will start all over again. Hmmm...turkey curry? Turkey fricasee? I'll just get creative...
One thing I really want to do is spend the day - or part of the day - meditating. I'm really lucky that |I am still alive and in reasonable health. I'm lucky that, after seven and a half (nearly eight) years, I can walk without falling over -most of the time, or until some imbecile crashes into me. I very nearly died at the hands of the incompetent cripplers at Barts and the Royal London. Nearly-but they didn't succeed. I came uncomfortably close with breast cancer. Again: nearly. Close, but no cigar, as they say (actually they say close, but no banana, but I've got no idea who started that one).
Giving thanks and realizing how lucky I am - so important right now, when I'm feeling down, and irascible, and spiky and generally pissed off with life and the state of the world.
Thankful? I'm still here, and what a difference between 2017 and 2010. What a difference! If I'm still here, and I've fought this hard to get here-and stay here- there must be a reason for it. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing, but I do know that as long as I wander around aimlessly and with my head up my ass I am not likely to find out.
So that is what I will be doing on Thursday: cooking. Eating. Drinking (well, I don't drink alcohol that often, so I'll be doing some of that). And-pulling my head out of my ass so I can start doing what I was robbed of doing seven and a half years ago: living.
Happy Thanksgiving. No punching, kicking, scratching or slapping. Peace for one day-unless someone really pisses you off. Then kick them hard, where it hurts the most. And run.
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