I'm going to try to think about simple joys... staring up at the stars, natural or artificial, places where I know I can eat like the picky minx I seem to have become, and not only will my mother, who I try to distract from life with a partner who is in what seems to be end stage Parkisons and can let the world eat at her, worry, but I will be kissed and chatted up a storm. I am not spiralling down a vortex, I won't, can't let myself. Things aren't perfect... Captain Obvious diagnoses and runarounds can drain you of a lot of spirit, constantly searching for answers and walking into brick walls, being exhausted, trying to break out of a shell you accidentally got into again... these aren't good, aren't fun. But won't hold me back. I won't look back... I'd like to be useful for something other than seasoning food.
Even spent five minutes laughing a little at Dorothy Parker and her beautifully sharp gallows humor, although my brain never went in that direction... life, and living it, at all costs, is too precious to me:
Razors pain you;Rivers are damp;Acids stain you;And drugs cause cramp.Guns aren’t lawful;Nooses give;Gas smells awful;You might as well live._Resume, Dorothy Parker
But I was given an odd sense of humor for a reason, and what helps helps.
It's sunny, it's beautiful, I have fight, I have answers to get, asses to kick, and a life to live. The "I don't know you but I am an expert and you are___" opinions can all go where they belong. What's in God's hands is in his control, not mine. What is in my control, is how I choose to look at and react to the world. I am growing. I am healing. I am learning to just laugh when I must, to give myself what foods I want if I want them, and to not worry if I'm eating a bite or two at a time. I did hear vodka can open throats and stimulate appetite, and did joke that I might try this method, but I'm not the kind that drinks alone.