Recovering

I've returned from surgery in the US a few days ago. I'm still on painkillers, which prohibits me from driving or doing anything that might entail responsibility. I'm also desperately tired.

My sis accompanied me on this trip, as she did a year and a half ago. We argued, like two strong-willed women would, but in general we didn't try to kill each other (much) this time. I chalk it up as a success. Thanks, Sis.

I didn't realize just how badly damaged I was until today. I don't mean the surgery - it's the other scars I've accumulated from a lifetime's worth of surviving. Truth is, I don't know how to relax anymore.

I rested for most of yesterday. I'm on doctor's orders to be on strict bedrest. I think my body decided that she has me exactly where she wanted me...and launched a coup d'etat. Under new management, I've been in bed all day long, napping unpredictably and doing absolutely nothing.

It's nice.

There is a deep sense of peace and serenity. I haven't felt like this in a long time, except perhaps for my recent trip to Victoria. I don't think I know how to just shut down and recharge.

I'm trying to learn. Recovering from surgery doesn't exactly give me much of a choice. As I'm still in pretty bad shape and in quite a lot of pain, I think my plans to return to work on Monday may perhaps be unrealistic. We'll see, I guess.

Is this peace and serenity something I've lost all these years? If so, then a lot of my own personal brand of insanity makes more sense. Maybe the best Sanity Defence is to let go, literally, of the real world and sleep, perchance to dream.