When You Can't Get What You Want, Accept That Which God Knew You really Needed All Along.

By now I have truly no idea to whom I owe responses and answers. Sorry. I'm too confused at this point. If you're still waiting for some answer, the wait is over; if you're already tired of my too many emails, well, here's one more so just deal with it.

I was just lying here in bed awhile ago thinking about what a waste I'm making of this lazy day. Hungry (in and of itself unusual and wasteful - the shrinking stomach has no space for food) and lazy and "oh poor me" and all sorts of other whiny stuff. I really can't stand women who whine. Yet, then to become a whiner. Gak!

First, I was still in bed at 5:30 (after sleeping a full ten hours already) but no one made me go to bed at 7:30, did they? Steve, who had a normal grownup's evening was still trying to sleep, but some little finger was poking him to see if he might be almost awake, and not letting him rest. At that point the abuser's husband offered to gently rub the abuser's sore back, which was of course totally undeserved and a small miracle, but perhaps also a way to end his own torture of whine chatter. He rubbed my back, eased my pain and woke up with me.

So up we were at 6:00AM and I felt disgusting and icky. Shower time. Ha. I cannot stand alone underwater anymore. Within minutes Steve had rigged someway for him to wash my still long hair while I sit under the spray of hot, soothing water. He gently did it all while I kept my whining to a minimum. Before I knew it, I was rolled into a large warm ball of terry cloth robe and tucked under my blankets once more.

In the meantime He and Morgan had dragged a huge lounge chair from the library into our bedroom so she could sit there and read and be with me. I could be a spoiled princess having every whim catered to in my own home. How cool is that?

Should I mention that it's now 1:26PM and I still haven't seen the downstairs? This upper sanctuary is growing on me. Better check with the rest though. My little bubble could burst. They keep bringing me meds, rubbing me, soothing me, being kind to me...how long can this go on? Oh right, they love me even on days I'm a jerk, when I've conveniently forgetten how beloved they all are to me, and in the end, I'm practically healed with the love they pour over me by the bucket.