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Hello? Are you still there? Am I still here?

It's been so long since I blogged. 6 months! Just because I haven't written any actual words here doesn't mean I haven't thought a million different blog posts. One of my "thinking" minds is when I'm crossing under State Street on my way back from a mall walk or a coffee run, and I mentally compose blog posts about snark or problems or what I view as irresistible witticisms that most of the world would kill to read. (Tell me I'm not the only "blog composing thinker" out there!)

But, despite the plans, I haven't written a word here. I'm remedying that today with a list. I'm not going to limit or stretch for a number or goal. Let's just see where we get to.

• Asthma. I freaked out one day after I got lightheaded during an interval run on the treadmill. I found myself in a familiar landscape, one I'd hoped never to see again. When has hope that a situation not ever presenting itself again actually ever resulted in that situation staying away forever? Never is when. So I put on my big girl pants and picked a new pulmonologist and went to see her. 
• I've avoided treating my asthma because of the emotional side effects it had on me 7 years ago. I thought I had it managed, and then stress and life and the sudden but lasting cold snap and vicious winter storms threw it into a tailspin. My doctor very literally talked me down off a ledge. She put me on a steroid, and I then went right back onto the ledge over taking it. But now I'm 2 weeks in and I'm starting to breathe again and sleep again and exercise again. 
• Nothing ever lasts forever; it just feels like it.
• My mom. My mom got sick in December, and hasn't gotten back to herself. She had multiple surgeries, one quite suddenly right after Christmas that if she hadn't had, she would have died. It's been a rocky road. Having her sick brought back many memories of a few years ago when she was in rehab after her radical 16 level back fusion. I wasn't my best self during that process, and I felt many of the same emotions. 
• Things often repeat themselves, but they never happen in exactly the same way. I've got more tools in my toolbelt, and even if they haven't completely kept me from being overwhelmed, I have found more islands of calm. 
• Shane's mom. Shane's mom has also had a lot of challenges. She had 2 serious back surgeries 3 months apart. Seeing her in pain and frustrated at being a patient for so long has also been hard to witness. I'm glad she's on the mend finally.
• Life. I've watched very real life events happen in close family and friends lives that make my heart ache. I want so much to do emotional heavy lifting. I want so much to solve these problems. I know I can't do anything more than listen and love. There is something beautiful and sacred at being a witness to another's pain and suffering and watching them stand up every day and carry it with them. 
• Fear. Fear backed me into a corner more than once recently. I've gone over, around, under, across, against, and every other direction to avoid it, and yet it's been my constant companion. I'm starting see fear differently. More on this another time.

I didn't get as far as I'd have liked in this. Once I start to write, I don't want to leave anything out and then I realize all I want to update about, and it gets unwieldy.  I'll call this a good starting point. I have some more real life to attend to today, and so I'm going to put on my pants and show up for myself and my loved ones.

Ending with a poem that I've been thinking about for the past week or so.

Living in the Body

By Joyce Sutphen

Body is something you need in order to stay

on this planet and you only get one.

And no matter which one you get, it will not

be satisfactory. It will not be beautiful

enough, it will not be fast enough, it will

not keep on for days at a time, but will

pull you down into a sleepy swamp and

demand apples and coffee and chocolate cake.

Body is a thing you have to carry

from one day into the next. Always the

same eyebrows over the same eyes in the same

skin when you look in the mirror, and the

same creaky knee when you get up from the

floor and the same wrist under the watchband.

The changes you can make are small and

costly—better to leave it as it is.

Body is a thing that you have to leave

eventually. You know that because you have

seen others do it, others who were once like you,

living inside their pile of bones and

flesh, smiling at you, loving you,

leaning in the doorway, talking to you

for hours and then one day they

are gone. No forwarding address.