I sit here, another stupid crisis averted, listening to music picked from a long-loved playlist by the one I love, reeling from being human and from being here, now.
My life rocks, that's the mantra.
But dayum, how it throws for a loop once a while. As in, today.
Let's jus say my blood pressure is now in check, meds are ordered, the panic and pressure that has gripped me for months straight is alleviated, and I'm not feeling anxious to the point of being nauseated anymore.
That happened TODAY.
I think of this as I hear many of my favorite songs being broadcast from our local radio station (WTHP, if you must know), and you know what? I'm treatable. This thing is a thing, my body doing stuff I don't understand and never will, that I ("I") can make decisions about and plan for.
The past few months of being a scared slave of what was going on? DONE. I don't care how embarrassing it is, I'm facing it, not hiding from it anymore. Fat? DONE WITH THAT. High blood pressure? TREAT THAT SHIT. Funked-up thyroid? MEDICINE ME!
My youth I spent recklessly and happily, so the rest of life, I assume and claim, I will pay forward in taking care of this life I have been given.
In other words - My demons, I will slay you.
Much girding of loins to come. Also, strapping on of sneakers and meditations to yodel.