One of my best friends said to me the other day, “I like that you only post [on your blog] when you have something to say.” (She is also, un-coincidentally, one of two (2) people who reads this blog.) Unfortunately, I’ll be straying from this paradigm today – and likely in the next few posts as well – since I’m couch-ridden and have nothing better to do than spew my thoughts into the black hole of zee interwebs.
Perhaps the most frustrating part of my recovery process (my days alternate between sleeping and lying on the couch) is the lack of creative inspiration I’ve felt. Most of my (subjectively) great ideas and thoughts come to me when I’m in motion: walking, jogging, or biking, which is why this post and the following will likely lack direction and inspiration.
Anyway – trying to remain ~on brand~, if you will, during my hospitalization and recovery process has been challenging. Thanks to the appetite-suppressing effects of my medication, the drastic change in my lifestyle from (arguably too) active to completely sedentary, and the logistical difficulty of eating with a neck brace, the consumption of my favorite foods has proved to be a formidable endeavor. That being said, I managed to consume a burrito and some pizza and, of course, plenty of mint chip ice cream which, thanks to my amazing friends and visitors, has not been in short supply.
The frequent delivery of mint chip ice cream brings me to the most important reflection of my recovery process thus far: my friends and family fucking rock. I’ve never felt as much gratitude and love for the people in my life as I have these past few weeks. I can’t lie – I’ve spend a lot of time the past year or two wondering if my relationships are OK; I’m constantly anxious that I’m not a good friend or daughter or sister or colleague, and in my darkest moments I ask myself the question, “If I died tomorrow, would anyone come to my funeral?” I want so badly for all of my relationships to be perfect all the time, even when it’s unrealistic, and I have an unhelpful tendency to take everything extremely personally. So when I returned to consciousness after my surgery a few Saturdays ago, I certainly wasn’t expecting the outpouring of love and support I’ve received these past few weeks.
To everyone who has come to visit me in the hospital, or sent me a thoughtful text message, or had flowers and chocolates delivered: thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ve had more than one of my friends who, after visiting me in the hospital or at home, have said, “You seem so positive and in good spirits!” and each time I’m surprised because how could I not be? I have never felt so supported as I have the past few weeks, and I’ve never felt so full of gratitude and love for the people in my life. I may be going slightly stir-crazy being confined to hospital beds and now to my house, but this process has confirmed for me that the people in my life are all that matter. My heart aches when I see people walking and biking and moving about the city, and sometimes the pain in my body gets so bad that I can’t think of anything else – yet I keep returning to this incredible feeling of fullness. Even when I’m back up and running (literally and metaphorically), I will hold onto this feeling. My life is so very blessed. Also, if we happen to experience a crazy snowstorm in San Francisco that confines us all to our homes, I definitely have enough chocolate to last for a few months.