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For the last couple of months I’ve been thinking—and sometimes telling others—that I’m beyond patience with this unwinding head thing. When my jaw failed to open out all the way apparently every muscle around my face that connects to either the upper or lower palate got cemented in; at least every time some part of the muscles tries to unwind it feels like it’s been yanked by something encased in cement. And then I have to laugh to myself because of course this, like all things, has its own process and its own time and it is going to do its thing for however long some higher power has determined regardless of whether I do or don’t have patience.

It’s a good lesson in both mindfulness and detachment. The yanks and pulls tug me into painful awareness of the moment and then I struggle each time through the choice of whether to be grateful that the pain means healing or to feel put upon that this keeps happening to me or to shrug and realize that this is just what is and I can choose how to feel about it or whether I need to feel anything at all.

I’m getting more quiet spells when the movement and burning pain calm down for days (or most recently a couple of weeks!) and I sleep and feel good and get a glimmer of what it feels like to have healthy muscles and just live. It used to be that I couldn’t visualize a healthy, pain-free me because I had no memory of what that felt like. Now I have vivid memories of these lovely days I’ve had and I can nudge patience along by reminding myself that all of this leads to feeling that good being normal.

But today, right this minute, to be honest… AACCKK!!! Somebody up there make it stop please, I’m out of patience! And I’m so grateful that the lump of bone in my upper palate is even smaller.

This post if for Jenny Matlock’s AlphabeThursday for which the letter this week is “K”.