This is the image that my husband came home to last night:
Me, horizontal on the couch, a heating pad on my neck with a heavy pillow on top of that to weigh it down, my bare ass hanging out with an ice pack on my hip, in the dark, Oprah on the TV. Hot. I know.
My back pain is better. The headache is gone for the most part. No more nausea. Thank God, because that was the WORST. But in true me-fashion, the pain that ran throughout my back last week is now running where ever it pleases and is currently in my hips making me waddle around the house. I’m trying to be entertained by myself. Ha. Ha.
This was not my plan. My plan was to be fully recovered by now, walking my dog, Ruby through the park, enjoying the summer weather and attacking my work. But what do they say about plans? The best laid plans make God laugh at your cocky self. Something like that. So I took one last day of complete rest yesterday, and I called in the big guns.
Oprah and her network.
Oprah washed over me with her loving ego. She took me behind the scenes of building a network where I was reunited with my favorite Executive Producer, Sherry Salata, and her skillful management through laughter of Ms. Winfrey. She showed me Lisa Ling thoughtfully considering alcoholism on Native American reservations and modern-day nuns and teen moms. And she brought me into Neil Patrick Harris’ suburban home in the San Fernando Valley and introduced me to his partner and his unbelievably chubby blonde children. Ahhhhhh…
I started to feel a little better. Maybe it was the resting. Maybe it was the appropriately cathartic crying. Maybe it was the block of cheese that I ate (on plan, in case you’re wondering). Or maybe it was the fact that I know that Oprah would’ve enjoyed that cheese with me. Whatever it was, it was a little bit better. Not in the pain realm, but in the mind realm.
In the MIND realm.
So today I’m focusing on simple tasks. Writing this blog, breathing, eating a vegetable. Because as Oprah says, life first speaks in a whisper before it drops a ton of bricks on your head. I get it. I feel the bricks already. And because the bricks make me waddle in pain to the freezer for an ice pack to sit on, I’m feeling like the bricks are saying “slow down.” Which is shockingly difficult to accept in the long-term. Personally, I feel like I’m never doing enough. But now I don’t really have a choice because I’m winded just walking to the bathroom. It’s time to listen to my life.
So thanks Oprah. Thank you for feeling the need to spout spiritual aha moments every other minute you are on TV. I really appreciate the mind realm boost.
Now let’s get back to work on the rest of your OWN programing, ’cause Miracle Detectives and Undercover Boss ain’t doin it for me.
Love you mean it, O!