A Christmas Reflection

Anyone who’s been around me during any holiday quickly comes to know that I’m no supporter of any type of tradition. It’s pretty obvious when my mother refers to me as “Scrooge” that something might just be off a bit. The name that I am (jokingly) called is rather inaccurate. I don’t love money or horde things – I just don’t like pointless special occasions.

In the past Christmas has been a miserable affair: the family opens presents, everyone oh’s and ah’s over the items, and then everyone goes their own ways. It’s rather anti-climatic, to be completely honest. Yes, there’s some rhetoric thrown in about Jesus and Mary and Joseph and such at random intervals, but that doesn’t really constitute meaning to me.

I’m reaching out to find a more meaningful way of expressing myself this Christmas. So far I’ve planned better presents than ever, that have some kind of meaning, and that will mean I have to spend time with other people as well. I’m tired of opening up a bunch of presents and then spending the rest of the day by myself.

Forever

Anyone else ever wish they knew back then what they know now?

It seems like the more I learn about my condition the more aggravated I am about the unfortunate circumstances in which I’ve been in the past. I feel like if I could go back, that I would do so many things differently. The problem with that premise is that one would then have to assume that I don’t like myself, which is untrue.

I’ve truly come to enjoy the person that I am through all the hardship I’ve experienced in the past year and I wouldn’t change that. Why, then, does the past sometimes keep me awake at night? Often times I’ll lie awake wondering what it would have been like if such and such had gone differently. It's counterproductive to do so, and I do so less than I used to – but there are still those nights that I cannot sleep because my thoughts keep drifting to less pleasant times.

The past shouldn’t last forever; I need to make sure I don’t let it.

It’s Been A While

So, it’s been a while since I had last written anything because of the craziness that suddenly consumed the randomness known as my life. I’ve been to what seems like way too many doctors, fought too many side effects from medication, reclaimed lost friendships, became closer to people with whom I never got along beforehand, and oh so much more.

I’ve heard it a million times, but you never really believe that illness can be a blessing until you experience it. By all means, it’s not anything I would want or ever ask for again, but the entire experience is changing me – in a good way. I never would have thought that it was possible, but anyone who’s been around me lately just knows.

My primary doctor for managing everything is very pleased. After hearing from my mother about my progress, she’s said that I have “a 99.99% chance” of managing everything and living a perfectly normal life. That’s not the typical prognosis and never did I expect to hear that from such a brilliant doctor when describing the recovery chances for someone like me. Simply amazing is what I’d call it.

This has been a short post (for me), but I’ve got to get ready for lunch and getting out. It’s been a long time since I was comfortable enough to go out often and do things, but that’s changing. Praise God for that.