297 // Gloomy Friday

It’s a cold and gloomy day here along the Front Range Urban Corridor. We woke falling sleet and thick layers of ice on our cars and walkways, and as the sun rose we realized there would be very little improvement in the way of warmth and blue skies would likely not make an appearance. So much for a happy Friday.

As for me, things have improved in what ways it can since the last time I posted here. In some ways they are worse too. Every day brings new challenges and every day we discover new ways to be strong, or to fail. I suppose all life’s major changes and tragedies follow this pattern, and perhaps the peaks and valleys never will quite flatten out again, but only shrink toward one another.

Getting back to work has helped some, and being with my wife makes it easier, but even through the laughter and love, emotions of pain, stress, fear, and helplessness continue to be the predominate. My family is in an upheaval and we’re being forced to take not only our circumstances but one another on a day by day basis.

My health has not improved overall either, but the time for answers either way is fast approaching. More tests and a new plan are close enough to give me both hope and anxiety. I’m worried I’ll be told something else entirely from my original diagnosis is wrong, or, worst of all, I’ll be told nothing is wrong at all. I’m worried the answers will come too fast and I’m worried that I will have to wait, and suffer, just a little longer.

Still, I’m grateful for so much. I’m grateful for the family I have and for small victories. I’m grateful to be alive, to fight, to support the people I love and to receive support too. I’m grateful for what I can give, even if all I wish anymore is that I could give so much more.

What I’m learning though is that gratitude is not the same as happiness. It’s only a small part. I need more than gratitude and I’m at a loss as to what that thing is or how to find it right now.

It’s a frigid and snowy day today, the exact kind of day I hate. Of course the one day of the week winter decides to show up is the one where I have the busiest schedule and, of course, the very people who where supposed to help me stayed home. It might be a good thing though. I’ve always preferred the solo projects.

I’m just being crabby because I haven’t been able to do anything much for me and I know that this weekend will be busy too and now that I think about it next Monday feels awfully close already. The days are growing drab and mundane and nothing feels all that important or worth the effort. Everything is exhausting. Everything is at best an irritation and at worst a waste.

Let the seasonal depression begin.