Monday, January 19, 2015


You know how you wake up convinced you have diabetes? Yeah, pretty fun way to start my Martin Luther King, Jr. Day! Not that it's MY day. I mean, it's his day, I just get to reap the benefits. Not reap the benefits in the way that I am black and he opened up a lot of doors for me. Reap the benefits in that I don't have to go into work today. Thanks, Martin!

Anyway, diabetes. Today it's diabetes, tomorrow it may be fibromyalgia or arthritis or Lyme disease. Heaven forbid if it's stigmata! I guess you could call me paranoid or a hypochondriac or just a simple girl with the inability to produce insulin. I worry, okay?! Who doesn't?! There are people out there (are you one of the lucky ones?) who don't obsessively worry about every ache and pain and possible event and imagined catastrophe. There are people who can go with the flow and hit those curve balls life throws out them. They hit those balls OUT OF THE PARK, too. How do they do it? Can we switch brains?

I realize I'm "only" 30. Thirty isn't necessarily old, but it sure isn't young anymore. Oh, my reckless 20s. You were good to me and I was so bad to you. I was invincible and could bounce back from just about anything and never felt like I had to worry about those pesky adult things, like health insurance and health and insurance and how I might die alone surrounded by a pile of medical bills and pill bottles and cats. So many cats. At least I have my cats -- guess I won't be alone after all.

Instead of incessantly fretting, maybe I should just accept that weird and unfortunate crap happens in life and to just, you know, deal with it. Handle whatever comes, when it comes. Worrying will make life miserable; acceptance will allow me to at least enjoy those enjoyable moments that are always there if I can just open my eyes and see them. And taking life in moments will help. Digesting seconds rather than minutes is easier on the psyche. Days don't have to be a battle. Days can contain continuous pockets of heaven.

My writing has gotten weird, I know. Is this a symptom of something? Should I WebMD it? Noooo no no no. But I should probably get a physical to make sure. I might as well now that Obama forced me to get health insurance. Maybe the doctor will tell me I am A-OK. Maybe the doctor will tell me that I'm not. In either case, it will be okay. But if I'm not A-OK, please let the doc write me a prescription for cats. All of the cats. Extended release cats.

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