Yesterday was, um, interesting.
Bunch of details about what I watched omitted for brevity, but Fauci deserves a place in history alongside other notable bad actors. There was one comparing him to Jim Jones. Jones had to go to Guyana, not stay in his mansion in MoCo.
I thought I might have written something with my inclinations that Fauci, et. al. should be tried at The Hague.
Yeah, I know that would have never happened, and it’s irrelevant now that the US has pulled out of those agreements.
Viewing was interrupted by a physical therapy session. I think it’s actually working.
Hand-in-hand with doctors finding ways to take care of me is the realization that, no, I didn’t bring this stuff on myself. I didn’t get MS because of a personal moral failing.
I did things to try and cover up very real physical effects, and those have had negative effects on my life.
…just imagine you’d had a normal life!
No. Why would I waste time on that?
I muscled through until I couldn’t any more.
Yeah, I planned to do more in the pursuit of getting squared-away for the rest of this streak, but I didn’t get there.
So scanned prompts…
What does ‘healing’ look like for me right now?
Is it rest, movement, letting go, or something else entirely?
This was an interesting case of the scanner picking up something different. The OCR registered this as ‘bearing.’
Even checking visually, I guess I can understand why it said that; weird font.
To answer the question, though, it’s really learning to accept my imperfections, and stop trying to appear perfectly put-together. You’re not okay. And it’s probably not because of anything you did. Or anything anybody else did.