While eating the second avocado of my breakfast this morning, I realized that today is the six-month mark of this hospitalization.
Six months. That’s … a significant amount of time. Seriously.
So much has changed outside these walls since I got here: seasons have passed, a pandemic has begun, major change is taking place in the world. I don’t need to tell you, though; you’re probably out there and likely know better than I do.
Much has changed within these walls, too. I haven’t reached my goals yet, but momentum has been building over the past few months. We’re figuring out what my body needs. We’re in the process of figuring out what what will best control my seizures and my postictal psychosis. I’m beginning to feel more confident in myself. Best of all(?), I just started a ridiculous paint-by-numbers kit of the Mona Lisa that I might be able to concentrate long enough to eventually finish.
It’s easy to let my thoughts get stuck in the “I should be doing more with my life” trap, but guess what? This has been a heck of a lot, and it’s a heck of an investment in the life I want to have.
And with any luck, I’ll get a tacky Mona Lisa out of the deal. You better believe it’ll occupy a place of pride in my living room.