December was a hard month.
I started with my ankle ligaments reconstruction surgery and pretty much stayed immobilized for the next 30 days. December and the Holidays were a wash.
My brain was mush, I was in pain, and I pretty much did nothing more than lay around and mope in my miserable state of being.
Once I finally able to manage my post-surgery pain with Tylenol, my head started clearing up. I was wrong thinking that I would be able to go back to work and get on with my life.
Did you know that pretty much the entire world took the last week of December off? Yah, that happened.
As soon as I could think and sit up and type, no one was around. Phone calls weren't getting answered, and forget about connecting with anyone outside of social media. It just wasn't happening.
So I gave in, and for the first time in almost 30 days, I relaxed. I napped. I read. I watched bad TV (100 Days of Summer - don't watch it!), connected with folks I was too depressed to talk to before, and pretty much pretended that I wanted to be in my somewhat vegetative state.
I also had time to think. This time with a clear head.
Funny things happen when you are level headed: you see things for what they are.
I came to appreciate the folks that made time for me, just for me, and those that disappeared really stood out like sore thumbs.
I will never, ever, forget the kindness of a friend that took time out of her busy day to drive more than 30 miles, in the middle of the day, to not only see me, but bring me a gift.
There will also the texts, memes, and peppy Facebook messages that gave me something to smile about, even when all I wanted to do was to cry.
I did a lot of that. Cry.
Meanwhile the unexpected package that came all the way from NC made me cry, crocodile tears, and solidified a friendship that was already on the #loudandobnoxious level (inside joke).
When I needed to vent and get a dose of realism, one woman let me get all that anger out. How she did it, I have no idea.
This whole experience helped me appreciate life, respect my health, adore my friends and fall in love all over again with the man I married.
Truth be told, if a marriage works during the worst of times, the rest is just the sprinkles on the cupcake.
I have a lot of those: Sprinkles on my cupcake.
The other stuff, you know, the people that disappeared because they had no need for me if I wasn't available for them, I see them as the liners for my cupcake that I call life.
As "liners" these folks serve a purpose:
We can cook cupcakes with liners.
We can decorate cupcakes with liners.
Some are disposable.
Some are reusable.
Some don't bake well.
Some burn.
Sometimes you make liners out of nothing, and sometimes you make something else out of liners.
Although some of these folks, my liners, weren't around when I needed them the most, I now see that they served their purpose.
Tis' life.
Sprinkles, liners, and all.