My head felt impossibly heavy. My limbs felt as if they were pinned down. It took every ounce of energy I had just to sit up.
I pulled off the blanket and gingerly swung my legs over the edge of the couch. What was this bizarre feeling?
Comfort? Peace? Rest? Oh, yes. I finally slept. Really slept for the first time since my unwelcome guest. More than two weeks with only an hour or so of rest at a time. Not sleep. Not really.
I slowly walked into the kitchen and said good morning to my parents. I grabbed a mug full of coffee and settled into a chair. More tired really than I'd been in a while, but more awake, too. It just felt good. And safe.
Later we took flowers to the cemetery for my grandma's birthday. And went to dinner and toasted her. It wasn't a big thing, but it was. I took the day off to be there with my mom. I took the day off so I wouldn't have to face it alone.
Every year as long as I can remember the 5th of July has been spent celebrating my wonderful grandma's birthday. I'd missed celebrating the 4th with my family a few times, but never my grandma's birthday.
Birthday's are big in my family, but none like hers. I remember cutting camping trips short. Taking days off work. Taking 1700 mile round trip road trips just to be there with her as she marked another year.
This year would have been her 92nd.
We celebrated in her honor instead. And celebrating her memory reminded me to be strong. To keep fighting. To not give up or give in to the fear I've felt for weeks.
To do something about it. To do something about all the things in my life that have made me unhappy lately. To try to be happy despite the sadness.