It’s Been Seven Years …

Today, I realized something. It’s been seven years since I had to quit working because of my pain and health issues. It’s hard to believe it’s been so long already. It was so much a part of my life that it feels like just a couple of years ago.

Life isn’t anything I had imagined it would be. I thought I would be able to spend more time working on my rose garden, my exercises to keep my physical body working, and my writing and art. There would be more days at the park when I could relax and finally write the books I’ve been working on.

I would look back fondly and remember all my co-workers exactly as they were when I left the plant. There would be days when I could catch up and chat with them, and catch up on all the latest news and gossip.

But, seven years later, I can’t remember the names of everyone who was working on my shift, much less all the people who worked at the plant when I left. I remember the ones I spent the most time talking with and whose company I enjoyed. The rest are just ghosts in the corners of my mind. Vague memories of people I knew but didn’t really know.

There isn’t all the time I expected I would have. Funny thing, life. It never does seem to follow the plans we have set for ourselves. There is always a wrench to be thrown into the mix.

I hadn’t expected the pain levels to increase a couple of years later. Perhaps I probably should have, considering arthritis doesn’t go away or get better. But I didn’t.

I hadn’t anticipated vehicle issues that kept me housebound for one summer because we couldn’t afford to fix the one we had. Thankfully, there were people willing to give me the rides I needed when I had to go somewhere. We were blessed.

There have been family and health complications that took up some of the time I had counted on to do other things. My own mental health took a nose dive for a while and it took some time bouncing back from that.

And here it is, seven years later. Every once in a while, I run into a former coworker and we talk, but it’s not the same. Our lives are too different.

I fill my hours trying to make a normal life out of what has been given me. On physically good days, I play with my dogs and try to get out into the roses. On physically bad days, I’m lucky if I can come up with new posts for my scam education group I started to teach people about scams.

But every day I am finding ways to be thankful for the day. Because as I grow older, the people around me are going away. Some are passing on, some are just moving on.

And in the end, there is only me. And if I don’t take care of me and be thankful for the blessings I’m given, one day there won’t be a ME either.