Happy Birthday to Me
After doing laundry yesterday afternoon (climbing the steps several times) and attending daughter #3’s choir concert in the evening, I spent the night in agony. About two o’clock I finally succumbed to all the pain meds I had taken and fell asleep. This morning, predictably, I feel groggy and not much inclined to work on my manuscript. My husband generously suggests that this will be my most memorable birthday ever.
Honey? I hope not.
Instead of writing I have been obsessively checking my email. And I’ve been reading. Here’s Pema Chodron from Taking the Leap:
“Of course, neither you nor I know what adversity might or might not be coming — either in our personal or collective experience. Things could get better or they could get worse. We could inherit a fortune, or we or those we love could get an incurable illness. We could move into the house we’ve always wanted, or the house we live in could burn down. We could experience perfect health, or overnight we could become disabled.” (45)
I checked with Louise Hay, You Can Heal Your Life, to see what she thinks about broken bones: “Rebelling against authority.” Hmm.
“Each one of us has a three-year-old child within us, and we often spend most of our time yelling at that kid in ourselves. Then we wonder why our lives don’t work.” (Hay, 28)
No more yelling today. Here’s to you, kid.
So sorry to hear about your injury, Bethany! Hope you heal fast, and Happy Birthday!!!
So sorry. But, indeed, Happy Birthday to you!
Thank you — Kathleen and Cherie, plus those who emailed — for the birthday wishes. Yesterday I sat around with my foot elevated and let people wait on me!