Going back to Cali

My flight is confirmed. I'll be back in Los Angeles by the end of February. Mom will only be traveling with me as far as Tapeii. I'll get to board the plane early as a "passenger who needs special assistance." I'll use the walker for the really long trek through the airport, but opted not to have the wheelchair. It's the little victories.

We went out for dinner for my birthday. We went for a quick look at the Oki-Mart for fabrics. I want to have a few things made for me before I leave. None of my clothes fit. All too big. I'll donate them. So many people are in need.

I was exhausted by the time we went to dinner though. It's so easy just walking around the house and in the pool. I'm getting so much stronger so fast, but it's sort of a reminder of just what it takes to be in the world again. Just walking out to catch the pedicab on the main street and then walk through a few doors down from the restaurant, and I was exhausted. But I DID IT. The most walking I've done on land in nearly four months.

I've been working hard in the pool, but I have to be super careful. My problems have never rested with pushing through pain. I've re-injured myself so many times pushing through pain. I can just push and push. There is not stop until something stops me. Even mentally, I never even notice how stressed I am until I vomit this clear stuff acidy stuff and my hair falls out or I get these weird tremors. Last time it happened, and I couldn't feel my face, which to this day I find it so weird. It's everything for me to remember not to push. It's so hard, because there's this little voice in my head that says, "No excuses, no surrender," but I've never dropped this much weight with less effort in my life. I've never been closer to my family and friends. I've never felt so much love even though I've done no dating. I feel sane. I feel happy. So I know what I'm doing works for me, but that voice.

There's a part of me that feels like if I don't push myself to my absolute limit, then I'm worthless. But that part of me IS JUST WRONG. I know it in my heart, but my mind. My mind tells me things. That voice comes up sometime. Usually when I'm scared. Like when the travel agent asked about the wheelchair. Why should that be such a big deal? A part of me believes the only reason its okay not to push is because I'm injured. But HOW did I get injured? Why? Because I keep pushing. It's time for me to learn my lesson. I can't keep burying myself like I do. Everybody has a limit, but I have no idea where mine is. Somehow once I start pushing, I just blow past it. NOBODY can tell me to stop either. Actually, a lot of people are very impressed and root me on to keep going. It's just so hard to set a push-up goal of ONE, and say that I'll be happy even if I get just that one.

Some days it's hard. It's hard not to just get on the floor and just try to do a real push-up right now. Like there would be some glory, some prize in just injuring myself right now, because then I would be pushing myself to the max. BEYOND the MAX. But that's just my mind talking to me. BECAUSE I'm scared. Just because they asked me if I would need a wheelchair. To paraphrase one of Michael and my favorite movies Pulp Fiction, "That's just my pride fucking with me."

I still have over a month left. Just one step at a time. I don't have to walk the whole airport today. With all this water I'm drinking I'm bound to get stronger just having to walk to the CR (comfort room is the word they have for it here) every half hour.