on counting

I need to work out some thoughts that are swirling, so what better place than here? Some people like to do this sort of thing in the privacy of their own heads, or in the privacy of their own journals, but I, of course, like to blab my business all over the interwebs. To wit:

With the pending job change (some details a bit more "pending" than I would like it to be), moving and buying property, I'm in a pretty stressful time right now. I think I actually need to remind myself of that, because what I'm actually *feeling* is a lot of excitement, but maybe not so much anxiety (on most days, that is). However, the anxiety is definitely there, and somehow I am channeling it into my body, which has commenced to fall apart at the seams lately.

I blazed through my insurance deductible in January, and this may be the first year ever that I reach my out-of-pocket maximum, which is a decent chunk of change. My motto used to be something along the lines of "Take care of one malady at a time," and that worked for a while, but now they're piling up and I feel the need to launch a full-on attack. I'm taking a ridiculous amount of meds and seeing multiple specialists and it feels like I might be missing the key that brings it all together. Shouldn't there be, in the wisdom of the universe, some simple explanation for all of this? Don't get me wrong, I'm hella grateful for modern medicine. And my health insurance. But yikes. This week I had to make a spreadsheet to keep my diagnoses and medications organized. I'm realizing how much of my health management is really up to me (not that the physicians aren't great, because they are, but I am undoubtedly the coordinator).

I want to be able to trust my body. I thought we had a deal-- I keep it fed and watered, give it plenty of rest, take it on walks, and it stays healthy and fit. Seems to me it's shirking its duties.

Really, though, I don't have anything to complain about. I have friends who battle crippling pain, fatigue, physical obstacles or terminal diagnoses every day and don't complain as much as I do about my handful of annoyances. So maybe sorting out my thoughts should be more about shifting my attitude: maybe I need to stop counting my afflictions, and start counting my blessings instead.

Starting here: it's Mother's Day. And I totally lucked out in that department.