The Light

Okay, so I am going to be very honest here- I’ve had no will to write anything for a while now. Yes, I lost my mojo. Too many times I sat with my hands at the keyboard willing my fingers to type and…nothing. I had nothing good to say about anything or anyone. My life was a boring, repetitive routine. I was flat, unmotivated and hated myself for it. I mastered the art of feeling sorry for myself and most of the time I kept my feelings hidden beneath clever humour and my jovial personality.

Just before Christmas 2021, Paul landed in hospital once again with a bladder infection. It was a slightly easier than usual process to organise as the hospital was, for the most part, unusually accommodating and friendly. I was able to coordinate most tasks from home and Paul’s crew managed the rest from hospital. So it was possibly around this time that I realised how down I had allowed myself to get. People would ask how I was, how was Paul? How’s kids? My standard reply would be “I’m good. Paul’s good. Kids are good.” But really, I just wanted to go on a holiday, drink margarita’s on a beach and have gorgeous shirtless waiters serve me tacos all day long. Why was that so much to ask?

I would see friends going on holidays and posting it all over social media. In my mind, I hated those friends. Why should they have such a good life and I can’t? I want to go camping with my husband and kids. I want to book a flight somewhere. I want to be able to just get in the car with my family and explore different beaches and stay at dodgy motels.

I needed 2022 to be better. I was banking on my life, my mood and my mojo improving when the big hand struck midnight on New Years Eve… if only I could have stayed awake for it. But something did change. A couple of weeks into the new year I got Covid.

I don’t understand how being bedridden for 2 days with aches and pains put my life into perspective, but it was the firecracker up the bum that I needed. I thought a lot about Paul whilst laying in bed. I envisioned how bored he was with the same routine, not going out, not being able to see me or the kids because we were isolating on the floor above him. No life- squeezing hugs, no face crushing kisses. I remember catching a glimpse of him sitting outside with carers, staring out at the road, carer’s chatting to themselves. I wanted to cry. This was not what our life is supposed to be. This is not part of our plan.

We were down four carer’s due to isolation so staff usually working other shifts were rotated to fill gaps. Some staff worked for seven days straight while others picked up whatever shifts they could. We even invited an old employee to rejoin the team to help out on Paul’s program. Meanwhile, I had friends calling, texting, checking up on us. People were offering to buy us dinner and friend’s dropping containers of food to the house so I did’t need to cook. I soon realised how lucky I was that everything fell into place the way it did. I was surrounded by good people who were bending backwards to help me out. What was I complaining about?

I like to look at the whole experience as a valuable life lesson. Stop bitching about the things you cannot control. God has my back. I think 2022 has started to humble me. I got a good feeling about this year.

Vicki xoxox