January 4, 2020

Plans have become tricky, sensitive, often problematic amid recovery — a delicate balance between desiring a healthy sense of excitement and craving something to look forward to with not wanting to set myself up for disappointment and needing to avoid the stresses of either exposure to what I am not yet ready for, doesn’t feel safe or letting myself and/or others down. Some days, I like to dream and scheme about all of the beautiful opportunities that lie ahead and creative ways to fill my days, reconnect with loved ones and spark joy, especially as I look toward a future phase of healing wherein I pray to see marked improvements, though may still not be able to return to work commitments full-time. And other times, like right now whilst I lie at home in bed with a horrific headache, non-stop eye spasms and increasing jaw tension, I cannot even imagine going to a simple early dinner with my mother tonight right here in Marin County. My physical and mental health both remain precarious and unreliable, making it all but impossible for me to commit to plans for scheduled anything — visits (not yet, friends!), calls (speech has been improving since my last procedures in December, though more surgeries near in mid-January, followed by prolonged recovery once more), catchups (texting real time with dear friends has become a treasured pastime), errands (read: pharmacy, groceries, occasional vegan ice cream shops, nothing glamorous) or even doctors and medical appointments until right beforehand. I don’t know how I will feel on an unknown future date, let alone when I wake up tomorrow or even in a matter of hours. Plans of any and all kinds can indeed be glorious, but for now, I am needing to take it hour by hour, or sometimes moment to moment. My next (and maybe only) plan? A mid afternoon Shabbat nap. ✨💤🙏🏾