All I Really Want - Add On!

I was in a client meeting all day today and I thought to myself, "You know,
from here, Tucson really is quite lovely."

I was in an elegant boardroom and lunch came on decorative glass trays. The picture windows gave me a perfect view of the rain clouds bubbling around in the bright blue Arizona sky. While the clouds had so much silver in them, the Santa Catalinas were gold. Next to all the colors in the clouds, the view was breath-taking.
So much so that I was reminded of how exalted I felt of that dramatic beauty. This is the most stunning place I've ever been to, in so many ways.
Once in awhile when I catch that breath of my history, when I first drove out here and got here and smelled everything so deeply. Once in awhile I can feel exactly the amazement I felt when I first arrived.
I thought it was paradise.
I'm glad I haven't lost everything. At least I can still touch the feeling of euphoria that I had when I got here. I hope I don't lose that during the next year or so. I think I need it.

I am going to find a new mental health professional and look into some things... less counseling and more diagnostic things. I've been in counseling forever and all I do is get further into my head. I need to examine other places, you know? I need to finish up the stuff that I brought here to work on. I think I need to look at some other possibilities in terms of all of this being in my head... and beyond my control.

Anyway, today, my smiles felt real for the first time in a couple of weeks. Since jail, I guess.

Man, I could have stayed in that boardroom all afternoon.

I really hope it rains later and I can fall asleep to the sounds of rain on the windows and Rosie's sleepy sighs while I lay between Maggie's ball of kitty and Grace's long stretch.
That's all I really want because that's what feels good.
I'm volunteering all day tomorrow, so I get a bit of a reprieve in the morning. And no more Bonnie. I've been dog sitting for a difficult dog and I'm more than thrilled that her owner gets back today. She's too much for me, to be honest. She pulls so hard that her leash cuts my hand and she licks everything all the time, which is rather unpleasant. She and Rosie hang out together but sometimes, she tries to keep playing with Rosie long after Rosie has switched from playing to a snarling, barking mass of puppy that I don't feel particularly comfortable reaching down and grabbing with the intention of removal from the Jaws of Bonnie.

It's felt like Friday all week long and now, here it is. Only a few more hours.
My hands hurt a lot today, which they haven't done since I moved out here. They ache though. I remember how badly they used to throb when I was with Steve. I would wake up in the morning crying and unable to unfold my fingers. They don't hurt that much today but they are swollen and unresponsive. I am going to go get them looked at. br>A long time ago, a doctor told me that they were Reynaud's Syndrome. Looking back, that doctor was a royal bitch. She's the same small-town boob who refused to treat a girl that I knew who was in the hospital for cotton fever, a condition caused when cotton gets into the needle from which you are injection heroine into your body. This girl obviously had a problem but once she was in the hospital, did the doctor have any right to treat her that way?
Probably not.

So 10 years later, I'm kind of thinking about that swift diagnosis. I don't think she even looked at my hands. She told me she had Reynaud's Syndrome and that's exactly what I have.
Now I'm not so sure. I don't know if waking up crying from pain is really "not that serious", or if feeling like my hands are just useless stumps, getting blacker and blacker the older I get... feeling like... I dunno... maybe that's more serious?
I asked someone who has rheumatoid arthritis about them and she took one look today and offered that I go see her doc, stat.
My hands are gnarly. And not in the old-lady way. They're actually very smooth - no veins, no bones. They're gnarly in that they won't do what I want them to do with ut a great amount of jaw-clenching and pain-sensation-ignoring. But they still look very pretty. My whole life people have told me that I have beautiful hands. They are my mother's favorite thing that I have.
The irony would be cruel if they actually became nothing more than pretty but limp hands.
Cruel yes but worth the irony? Only in the book, my dears.
Only in the book would I be that cruel to wish a degenerative disease onto myself to spite my mother. But don't think that I didn't consider the possibility from all angles before deciding to hold out for a few more years of crazy-but-making-it.

arizonasarah at 3:17 p.m.

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