Hidden Alarm Clock

I have a hidden alarm clock.

That's more or less the challenge I've been living with for the past 13 months.  What can I do today? I don't know. Perhaps I wake up feeling so miserable and weak that I can get nothing done at all.  Perhaps I wake up and feel pretty good.  I get to work right away. Get coffee in my system as soon as possible (after going without coffee for the first 8 months I've started drinking a lot of coffee since its one of the few things that alleviates my headaches). I meditate. I listen to Dvorak or Bach. If I still have energy I read for 15 minutes and journal.  Maybe I get to some laundry. But before I gather the dirty clothes from the boys room my alarm clock goes off.  I didn't know my day would end today before noon but now I have to adjust.  My brain twitches and squeezes. My legs scream with pain. Needles stab my face.  Gravity hits me like I'm colonizing Jupiter. I crawl on the couch. Light blinds. Sounds pierce.

It's 2:30pm now and the boys will be coming home from school soon.  I can't let them see me like this when they return.  I drag myself off the couch and begin making a fruit and yogurt smoothie so they have something nutritious today. One by one they come home.  I focus on the one thing I can do in life: encourage the people in my family, remain kind and fun to be around. Keep my humor. As they enter, "Hey! It's Gabe! Welcome home bud.  Good to see you.  How was school today?  Guess what? I made an awesome smoothie.  Today it's going to taste perfect."  

It's 3:45 now and the boys are all home.  I'm exhausted.  The boys have had snacks. I've heard about their days. I crawl in bed.  There's not a part of me that doesn't hurt. I open my eyes again and it's 6:30. Jewel is home now from the piano store. In an hour the Warriors are on. I can watch the game with Evan and go to bed.  Thank God I've made it through another day.