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When I was a little girl, my momma used to sit outside on the front porch swing every morning while I was getting ready for school. I asked her a few times (during my “why” phase) what she was doing out there. She would always say “I’m counting my blessings, baby”. She would say that she was grateful for a wonderful daughter who made a hundred on her last test. For a house that sat behind a beautiful church and for silly squirrels that would run around the yard. She was grateful for a job that allowed her to take care of us and for a family who loved us. She told me to never forget to take a few minutes each day to count my blessings.
I woke up sick a couple of nights ago around 4 in the morning. I had to take a shower, but unfortunately the shower woke me up. So there I was at 4:45 in the morning wide awake. I went ahead and made a cup of coffee, grabbed a cigarette (I know it’s a bad habit, but I have it under good authority that I will be quitting soon) and headed outside. While sitting on my back porch steps, I saw a couple of squirrels running around the yard and remembered my mother counting her blessings…so I started to count.
I am blessed to have a house. It may need some work, but it’s mine. I am grateful that it has a fenced in back yard which allows my dogs to run around freely and saves me from having to walk them on bad days. I am grateful for M- (when we spoke about the possibility of a blog I had to promise not to use his name, but I will often refer to him as M-, my other half, or my boyfriend). He has been there for me and supported me much longer than anyone else would have. When we met I was relatively healthy, but now he has been with me through two surgeries (and one coming up) and all of my emotional baggage that comes from the chronic pain. He can make me laugh when no one else can and for that I have a pretty good sense of humor about all the craziness of my illness. I am blessed to have 3 dogs that fill my days with joy. I it weren’t for them, I probably would have gone crazy a long time ago having to be at home. They are like kids and have to be cared for. They give me the strength to get out of bed when I would much rather stay there and they always make me laugh. I am lucky to have doctors that care about me and what I am dealing with. Don’t get me wrong, I have had some issues with a couple of doctors, but they are much better than the incompetent idiots that I have dealt with in the past.
I deal with my chronic pain every day, but in a strange way, I am grateful for it-it means that I am still alive. And THAT is a blessing!
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