The past few days have felt like the tiger I was wrestling fell asleep on top of me.

This is a slight improvement from active battle, but just as debilitating. Those things weigh 500 pounds!  I can’t move, I can’t really think clearly.  I would love to be out enjoying the sun and long summer evenings.  I would love to tie on my new sneakers (still en route via amazon.com) and walk around Jamaica Pond, burning off some of this weight.  I would love to be seeing friends, going to the beach, museums, movies.  I would love have something to talk about with my housemates in the evenings.

I’m in the process of switching from one med to another (I feel like I’ve been in that process fro two years), so my body is adjusting to the lack of one thing, and the addition of another.  I am hoping that the next few weeks will bring an equilibrium somewhat better than muffled immobility.

But who knows.  Hope is a double edged sword, and I have grown wary of standing up because the fall is that much farther.  Maybe if I try to push the tiger off of me I’ll wake him.  Maybe it’s better this way.

What was the MacDonald quote?  “The false refuge of a weary collapse.”

My photo  edit of the day.   I took this photo on my way to a meeting last spring.  I am dressed nicely in a white blouse, necklace, my red leather purse slung over my shoulder and my sunglasses perched on my head.  My eyebrows are even plucked.  This can’t be my self portrait right now, but it is part of who I am, part of what I was.  So I give you a half portrait.  The other half is in sweats and a t-shirt, lying in bed surfing the internet, waiting on the tigers’ next move.