This Time Last Year

I am about one year post now--past the second knee surgery. That six months of recovery was filled with weirdness. For one thing, I was in the middle of manic panic. I did not realize it was mania since I did not go for days without sleeping, but I was crocheting linoleum floors for Christmas. Everyone got crochet or cross stich or both. Crazy times. At the same time, I was so focused on being a good patient that recovery went well. I have a deep need to do something well to garner accolades. Since I prefer not to have any more surgery, I must find some other activity that makes me shine.

I have been avoiding my blog. I have pretty much been avoiding my life the last couple of weeks. I would explain more except that 1) there is just too much, and 2) I really do not understand the funk myself.

Shocking

So I was mentally congratulating myself as I walked up the stairs to the 2nd floor. Today went well. I didn't accomplish all I wanted to get done, but I managed to get through the day pretty well. It also occurred to me that no one had suggested EST for me, something a woman I know had been prescribed. Is that the sum of what life has become? I did a few chores, talked to a few people, and did not have to face electric shock treatments, so I was satisfied, almost elated. Is this pathetic or is this "good enough" living?

One more query--why is it so much easier to recognize sadness and joy and true discernment in someone else"s life?

Fear of Writing

Maybe it is more a fear of life in general. It's difficult to determine. I have flirted with writing in this blog again for several days but was afraid to actually follow through with any writing. I don't know if I feel guilty for not having visited for so long. I really did not want to be tied in that way to a blog, having one more thing I would feel guilty about not doing any particular day. So much for my whining.
My life is typically messy. I have a family and a neighborhood and friends and church and work, so of course life would be messy if I am paying attention at all. Sometimes I just pay such close attention that I wake up one day and realize that craziness is reigning. Then there is the crawling back. In the Bill Murray movie What About Bob? the Richard Dreyfus character talks about baby steps to mental health. He publishes a self-help book about the concept. I personally think baby steps are a leap (forgive the mixing of metaphors). Crawling makes more sense to me. That action better expresses the weights that keep me from standing. I'm not envisioning a baby crawling but an adult in one of those Renaissance paintings of a classical figure pulling himself up out of the abyss. Cheery, huh? So I am crawling back once again, and posting to the blog has to be a positive component.
Work sucks. Not being listened to sucks. Being powerless sucks.