What I feel, is, well, missed and beloved. Which is a very wonderful way to feel.
I'm a poor correspondent. I don't call folks. I email when I have a random thought. Okay, I'll even admit I abhor buying gifts at appropriate times; I'd rather give when something or someone moves me. But I wasn't always like this, except for the gift thing.
I've turned into a bit of a hermit since I broke my back, and it's because of pain. Living with chronic pain is an undeclared war as no one wants to talk about it or recognize it. Only the people living closest to you can stage an anti-war rally, and that might just be moving the laundry from the washer to the dryer. Pain is an embarrassment, a weakness. No one wants to sit next to the old man that goes on about his lumbago, his prostate cancer, and his arthritis. Boring! It's not a conversation, it's a death sentence. Argh!
"How ya' doing?" is a loaded question because no wants to really know. "Medium" is usually my lowest answer because if I was worse, you wouldn't have any contact with me. And so I disappear.
And so I'm living a mostly invisible life.
I've got a few hours a day and I use them. If I over-do I pay for it by losing days. My mind is rich with scheming. reading, physical therapy, icing, a little piano, training dawgs, heat packs, dreaming of ways to be finacially safe, dove releases, napping, zoning, more ice packs, couch surfing on the internet, and always, pain medications.
And as my mama taught me, when there is nothing nice to say, don't.
So mostly invisible.
But here online I am very visable, in my best togs. And here is where the best parts of me & my world are on display. But you should see behind the curtain. You should know that this Oz is an illusion made real by hope, and more so by my fellows at the nonprofit & the Ranch. They are my limbs, my friends & family, my support system. Without them I'd be lost. And certainly without clean laundry.
I thank you all.