A couple days ago, Alyssa told me she was laughing and crying, reading my old blog posts. She said she loved finding pictures of a baby Bayleigh. I told her I do too. She reminded me that the words I put down here are an autobiography, of sorts. I regret that there are so many large gaps.
I have blamed the quiet on being busy being a nana, and that's true. I've also blamed it on a lack of creativity, and Lord knows that's true. In complete honesty though, it likely has more to do with fear of exposure. Fear of examination. Fear of reality.
It's easy to share toddler adventures and paint colors. It's not so easy to share days of doing nothing but sitting on the couch, when even the energy to make the bed eluded me. The sneaky thing about chronic illness, is how your reality changes from day to day depending on your health. No matter how positive your outlook, string a few of those bad days together, and your mind starts to forget how life felt on those good days. Even though I have way more good days than bad, let me have a bad stretch and my little mind goes all woe is me up in here. And I'm just not a woe is me kind of girl.
If I take the time to write a few words on those good days, take note of something that made me smile, and hit "publish", two years later, I can come back on a bad day and remember that happy time. That happy thought will be saved forever. I like that. I love that my daughter can visit my blog and catch a few glimpses of a time that went by oh so fast. Why can't they stay little longer?
Today is a great day, a very welcome warm sunny day. I went to sweat with the oldies and thoroughly enjoyed myself.
I need to explain that last sentence. Please don't judge me.
I'm currently enrolled in 12 weeks of pulmonary rehab. The purpose is to provide medically supervised exercise and education designed to improve breathing for patients with lung disease. It just so happens, most of the folks who participate are senior citizens. At 45 I don't go many places anymore that I'm the youngest, but here, I'm the baby, mere spring chicken. So, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I go and sweat with the oldies. (a little play on words for the old Richard Simmons Sweatin' to the Oldies workout videos)
I've not told my senior friends I call them the oldies, but I don't think they would mind. They are a fun bunch. This will be my second round of pulmonary rehab at this center and both times, I've had the luxury of feeling like the youngest, most physically fit one in the crowd. That doesn't happen much, so I'll take it where I can get it.