525,600 Minutes

August Long Weekend 2010:  The anniversary of my Lupus Cerebritis meltdown approaches. This year, a celebration is scheduled.  Not for myself, but for one of my oldest and most beloved keepers.  And just as she stood by my bedside a year ago, I will stand by hers on her wedding day (sans hospital gown, of course), as she enters into a new stage of life.

Shall I pour on the melodrama and claim that on that weekend, after a year of recovery, that I am doing the same?  Is it silly to think that I’m crossing a shimmering threshold into “better days,” or that I have been “reborn” into a different type of existence?  I can see the peanut gallery rising up to condemn me – “Arrogant little flake, isn’t she?”

I should know better than to hype things up the way I do, the way I cram forced symbolism and relevance on “anniversaries” and arbitrary events.  The thing is, I don’t quite know what to do with myself as I eye the calendar days inch closer and closer towards closing this particular circle of time.  It feels like I need to recognize it somehow, that I’m searching for closure for something that doesn’t end.  Recovery is forever.  Not just for me, but for everyone.

I have been on 2.5 mg of “Evil P” for over a month now, maybe even two… I stopped keeping track.  Incredibly, I have been making up every excuse to delay going off it completely.  I have a nagging feeling that there is indeed, a man behind the curtain, who could pull the plug on this beautiful, painless, and ultimately, illusory existence.  I guess I’m not feeling brave enough to find out… just yet.

And so, in about two weeks, I will surpass the “one year mark.”  I think it is best to quietly acknowledge it without fanfare or grandiose statements of what it means or where I “should be at.”  It may be best to do nothing, because there’s nothing to do, but to turn the calendar page.

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