Today was a bit of an off day.
Part of me thinks it can at least in part be blamed on the weather; getting her exercise outdoors always puts her in a better state of mind, and the exertion is truly good for her, both physically and cognitively.
I know that’s the gist of it, I really do. She was fully emotionally stable, and if you asked her, she’d tell you that while she missed the walks, she had a pretty good day. But the day began with her falling out of bed, and that seemed to color every minute that followed.
Don’t worry; she wasn’t hurt. Not even a bruise. It doubtless helped that we’re sleeping on a mattress on the floor; we never got a bed to go with the new king mattress we bought last spring.
This was an off day. She had familiar speech difficulties, and the same issues with balance when drinking that I mentioned a few days ago. Not nearly as bad as once was, mind you. Nowhere near so bad as that. To prove that point was a telephone conversation with her brother in which she was still a bit disjointed and unfocused. Afterward, her brother thanked me again for helping her get SO much better than she had. She sounded off to me, but to him she was still miles better than before.
Yes, I’m oversensitive. I’m even paranoid sometimes. Haven’t I earned that right?
Actually, No. I haven’t earned any such damned thing. What I have is an obligation to remain positive and to bring light and hope to this endeavor that most would deem doomed before it began. I am 100% confident in this path, but there will be off days. There will be fantastic, off-the-chart-AWESOME days. There will be tear-filled shit days. Mostly, there will be good days with incremental progress with the odd not-so-great day sprinkled in to keep us on our toes.
Today was a good one, in many ways, but parts of it troubled me, too. I guess that’s to be expected. I do know that every day will continue to be a learning experience. For us both, and for you, as you read these posts. I learn every day how to deal with what that particular day deals us. I don’t carry any unusual wisdom into this situation; I simply adapt and improvise as we go. Occasionally I fuck it up. Not very often, thank Heaven, but it does happen, and it generally leaves my beloved Jacquelynn in tears. Followed immediately by my own tears, of course.
But then she looks me in the eyes, and I see her. I truly see her, and I see the love and the trust she has for me. It’s unconditional and unquestioning. She knows I’ll see her through all of this. She has zero doubt in me and in us.
In her eyes, I’ve earned that trust and faith.
I will not fail her.