I know that I will become immersed and completely unavailable to anyone or anything that wants or needs my attention. I know I will cry and laugh and be, once again, fascinated by medical research that supports the theory that childhood maltreatment contributes to adult physical illness such as the ACE Study.
I know I will become more aware of how important it is to stay on a path of holistic health while integrating traditional medicine as well as alternatives. I am blessed to learn of Dr. Dalal Akoury at AwareMed who breathes knowledge on this topic.
So my blockhead is cement; not unlike the other-worldly image of a statue that I have envisioned since I was a teenager that was my barometer of me. First thing in the morning, I would do a mental check of my statue and some days it would be teetering back and forth, other days a limb would be broken and laying on the ground and on another it might be in many pieces. Each daily image would signal to me how I should take care of myself that day - both mentally and physically.
Today, my statue is rock solid and impenetrable and even a bit obstinate (it's eyes are closed and it's arms are folded across its chest). So I'm taking it as a sign that now is not a good time to delve back into a memoir that is painful to edit, especially on the heels of the recent passing of my friend and colleague, Susan Murphy Milano to whom nothing was ever daunting enough to stop her except that damn cancer. I feel that my words may be colored by my anger and grief that she is really gone.
Besides, I convince myself, there is house cleaning and holiday decorations to pull out of storage and bring to cheerful life. I finished my holiday shopping completely via the internet. Gotta love that Cyber Monday!
But, to be honest, I am hurting today. My ailments - particularly Fibromyalgia are in full throttle. I tried to scrub the tub but it hurt. I walked the dog and it hurt. I am carrying laundry up and down the stairs but it hurts. I re-injured my back in a car incident on Thanksgiving day and it hurts. Tomorrow I'll get back into the physical therapy pool because I've got to keep moving through the pain and, perhaps, the next day will be writing/editing day.
This blockhead's deadlines loom but only by my own making. Now that I have a respectable amount of followers of this blog (mostly those signed up by email) and am learning the ins and outs of making it better (particularly for the European readers I seem to have according to my stats. Howdy mates!), I will get moving and writing and editing. It's the best medicine there is.
Autumn in Murrells Inlet South Carolina.