My tea is always cold by the time I finish it. I get distracted with one thing or another and soon its cold. The last sip is always so sweet though, because all the honey has thickened and sunk to the bottom.
That's my life right now. I'm so busy being busy right now, with Jason and the kids, with my friend "The Wendy Bird" and her two lost boys, tending to myself for the first time in my whole life; that I don't have time for the dirty business of the bitter tea that is my illness.
It is real. Of that I have no doubts. It is no neurological sleight of hand or psychological curse. The pain does exist, and it is constant.
But on days like today and yesterday, I can almost forget that its there. It's like an unwanted odor that lurks in the air. You become accustomed to it until you've left the room and returned.
I don't believe my pain and fatigue has mysteriously disappeared simply because I'm happy. Though I do seem better able to "rise and shine" and I'm able to do it a lot earlier than I've previously been able too. I simply believe that the noise of my illness has trouble rising through the dine of my happy home. I awake earlier and more refreshed because Jason ensures I get to bed on time. I am in less pain because I'm busy and have less time to dwell on it.
I'm drinking up the honey right now. That golden moment suspended, sweet and thick on my tongue. And I'm loving it.There is no way cold tea can compete with the sweetness of love, life and laughter.
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