After the Anesthetic
April 13, 2016, 4:57 am
Filed under: insight, when I grow up

Pushing two weeks post-op, things are ok.  Wobbly and scattered, but ok.  Quitting the Tramadol after about five days was one of the worst parts – total neurotransmitter chaos, systemic bodily disruption, and all for a few blurry opiate-like days slipping into hazy naps.

This is the first time in three and a half years being unplugged from work.  Not checking in.  Not checking email.  Not having anything forwarded, or worrying that some emergency message will be missed, or that someone will be angry.  Not mapping out a return to do list or staring at work brought along just in case. Mental silence. Absolution.

Time to think and look around.

In the overall grand scheme, this has all worked out okay.

Every month at work there is a mental notch that is hit or else it is deemed a failure – most of the time, the notch was my choice, an internal goal.  Almost always, it’s just out of reach, which means constantly failing even when that’s not objectively true.

In my mind, every month, I’m a micro failure.

But when the noise of this arbitrary, consuming goal is dialed down, this isn’t a story of failure.  It’s the story of a long, hard push – so hard and so fast that we didn’t look back to take in the view.  Building the happiest place I’ve ever come home to, piece by piece.

A hundred things are imperfect. The push is far from over. But the view from here is pretty okay.


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