Last Saturday I went to reconciliation. I hadn’t been in years. My sins were so trivial I figured God and I could work it all out between us in prayer. But this sin was a big one, probably the biggest unless you happen to be a serial killer. So I really felt a need to talk through it with a priest. I wanted the comfort of church, but I didn’t feel right taking communion with this darkness on my soul. So I did it, face-to-face with a priest I’d never met and a purse stuffed with handkerchiefs. It was a wonderful experience. One of the many insights I took away from my time in the confessional was a suggestion from the priest to “not waste my pain” – to try to help others who may be going through the same experience. I took that to heart and was very active in my Intense Outpatient Therapy, which was in a group setting. I’m also planning on attending a Chronic Pain Support Group once a month and meeting with a couple of other women I met in therapy to continue working on issues specific to us. And, of course, I’m sharing on my blog. If I can help just one person who is dealing with depression and/or chronic pain it’s worth it.
My outpatient group therapy is finished, and I have the first of many meetings with my personal therapist scheduled early next week. The group dynamic was much more helpful than I ever would have imagined, but I’m looking forward to dedicating some time to learning to accept myself the way I am.
I got the most wonderful text from my daughter-in-law on Valentine’s Day. She said, “He’s an awesome husband. Thanks for raising such a great man :)” How’s that for a big ol’ stamp of approval on my parenting skills (and Michael’s of course!)? That’s one of the goals all boy-moms are working toward.
I got a letter from a new company that will be handling my Medical Leave of Absence (and, therefore, my right to continue purchasing insurance for myself and my family through my last employer). So that makes three, yes three, different entities that I have to contact every time I see a doctor, change a medication, or have a test or treatment. And, of course, they all want documentation, which they are apt to lose at least once no matter what method I use to send it. *sigh*
I went to my chiropractor for a regularly scheduled check and adjustment, and not only was my herniated disc space back out of alignment, but x-rays showed I’d messed up C1-C2 as well (probably during the whole CPR-EMS-ER episode) which leaves me with only one cervical disc space I haven’t messed up yet. I’m seeing my neurosurgeon this coming week as well, just to prove to all interested parties (see above) that I am not a surgical candidate.
I DVRd all the Olympic coverage and fast-forwarded through everything else just so I wouldn’t miss a minute of ice-dancing. It cracks my husband up. I’m like my mom watching a UK basketball game. I know every pair, their strengths and weaknesses, their past performances. I critique the costumes mercilessly, and call a less-than-perfect twizzle before the announcers. I’m already looking forward to the 2018 games 🙂
I have a new favorite snack. My friend MaryJo sent me a sweet card in the mail along with a package of these:
I can’t even describe how wonderful they are! And as a bonus, I don’t even have to share them! “Dark chocolate!” I announced. “Yuck,” mumbled John. “And pomegranate!” I squealed, ripping open the package. “Ick,” said Michael. Oh, yeah. All. Mine. Thanks, MJ!!
For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!