You Know What's Really Good?

My journal entry on July 7 starts with two words, all in caps — BAD DAY — and underneath is a crude sketch of lightning bolts striking my poor addled head. It was Day 14 of my recovery, so still early on, and in spite of all the advice to rest, relax, and be patient, I pushed myself too hard. I worked in the morning even as a headache persisted; I tried a quick, across-the-street errand to CVS, but ended up entangled in a long stressful transaction with the pharmacist; later in the afternoon, an old friend of my daughter’s visited, and my gratitude for company was quickly eclipsed by exhaustion. It was a bad day because I felt terrible, and a bad day because I hated how it was the most everyday things — writing, walking, seeing friends — that were making me feel terrible.

When I woke up the next day I felt a little better, but I promised myself I’d be smarter about prioritizing rest. I also promised myself I was really going to be patient, a quality that does not come easily for someone who has forever crowded the pan instead of “cooking in batches,” and balks at any bread recipe that involves “rising time.” (So: all of them.) Then, still in bed, I opened my journal and wrote in big headline letters “You Know What’s Really Good?” followed by a long list that I thought might help defuse the previous day’s bad energy…