One Chapter Ends and Another Begins

"...And the paperback princess wakes up to the cool autumn sun shining through her open window, not quite awake she yawns and stretches and sits up to greet a brand new day and a brand new season. She stays in bed for a while not quite wanting to give in to the end of the relaxing summer of love, hot muggy days full of whim and fancy and the last smells of kettle corn and green onion cakes in the air. However like any true princess she recognizes her responsibility to herself and her kingdom. So she climbs out of bed, ready to work hard and welcome the smells, sights and sounds and new experiences that await her in this new season of her life. She brushes her not quite long enough blond hair and picks her best princess dress and tries not to climb back into bed."

So now I'm 25 years old. And I feel 25 years old. And sometimes when I look in the mirror I look 25 years old. Not because I look old, or have wrinkles, but because my hair is done just so, and my outfit I put on to go to physio shows a certain sophistication I definitely did not have a few years ago. A sophistication I didn't think I would ever fully achieve. I like looking good, and I love clothes. But despite all of that, I've always had a artsy flair to my appearance which has been aided by a certain rumpledness, not quite perfection that can be my charm and undoing. As a kid my mom gave up trying to keep me clean and tidy very early on, where as my tom boy cousin, could jump in mud puddles and never have a hair out of place, or any mud or dirt stains. So I've always figured some people have it, and some people don't. But lately when it matters and sometimes when it doesn't, that rumpledness has turned a tad graceful. When I visit with aunts and uncles and my grampa and his sister, they keep commenting on how good I am looking and how I seem to have everything all together, or they think I'm looking so beautiful because for once in my life I seem to be getting things right. (they don't actually say it that way, but I like to read between the lines). So I have to admit I just might be growing up a little, but I still like to splash in mud puddles.

I started physiotherapy a couple of weeks ago. I was referred to this small clinic by another physio I greatly respect so I went and tried it out. It's pretty great so far. I can take a bus that's only a few blocks from my house to a bus stop that's right outside the clinic, and I only need one bus ticket because I can use the transfer to get home. I'm cheap and poor, so things like that are great. The thing I like best about this place besides the physio's there and the fact that they also do acupuncture, is the people that go there. Some are old, some are young, some are middle age, but the one thing everybody has in common, unlike the people who got to physio in a hospital setting, is that they all want to get better and be more active. And that's very important to me, because I want to be more active, and I want to get as much mobility back as I can, and in a positive environment I believe I have a much better chance at succeeding. During my first session I was sweating bullets just to stand up straight in the bars, stretching out my body that is used to sitting in a chair all day. By the next visit I was able to balance for a few seconds, something I haven't been able to do for a while. And two visits after that we timed it, and I got up to 45 seconds. I had to build up to it, and I was shaking like a leaf but I did it! It may not seem like much progress but to me it's like taking leaps and bounds. Next week I'm determined to stay balanced for over 50 seconds and hopefully in two weeks I can hang in there for at least a minute. I think these are good goals to aim for. It's good to have goals. Physio is completely draining me though. My body aches all over and I have to take long naps after each appointment, but I think it's also effecting me mentally. I've been losing things I feel I shouldn't lose, and having panic attacks because of it, and the mess made by tearing my house apart looking for them. Then of course way after the fact I find them. Though I only find them because even though I've calmed down, I still feel the need to keep looking, and I recheck things and keep thinking of places to look even though I had looked everywhere, and then the object appears! But I don't feel relieved or anything, I feel pissed off at myself for freaking out at not finding it. I blame it on the end of summer. I can feel it ending and the air cooling down, and I'm dreading another long dark winter in this city. So the stress builds up and I break down over things I should be able to handle.

Yesterday I missed my bus and got stuck in the rain for over half an hour. I was very close to cancelling my appointment and going home. But then I thought that if I gave in to a little rain, how the hell would I survive in the snow? So I stayed and got rained on and splashed on by the cars zooming by. But I stayed and that's important.

So goodbye summer and hello to a very busy and tiring and hopefully rewarding fall!