Years ago, but not enough years ago that I did not know better, I got ridiculously mad that my Moishe action figure from Where the Wild Things Are would not stay in its stand. It was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.
These days I am worrying about the next straw, the next Moishe as it were.
A lot of things just seem to be piling up on me.
Physical things, of course. Things like my sleep or my temperature regulation or my feet hurting or my shoulder bothering me or a recent fall where I slipped out of my chair while using a urinal and wound up on the floor with one hand in Fame’s water bowl and one thigh stretched way more than is comfortable or my hands being unable to press the proper button on my lift.
Mental, too, all my worries about everything happening to me. I am so tired of living with Friedreich's ataxia — not that I have an option — and I don't see how it can get better, only worse.
All the rain doesn't help either.
There is more, of course, but that is enough for now.
Frankly, I am a mess. I think that is why I have not written in a while. Sometimes writing about what is bothering me helps me feel better about it. Not now. I don't think there is any way things get get better and it's just depressing.
Moishe is still standing in my room. The stand doesn't work well, but he leans against the wall and Bernard, another Wild Thing who stands well.
Perhaps that is what I need to take away from this story: That Moishe is still standing with the help of the wall and his loved ones.
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