Thursday night after a 12-hour day at the office. The bus was one block ahead, boarding the last of the passengers. I knew that if I broke into a dead sprint I would catch it. Instead, I let it go. The last passenger stepped on, the hazards clicked off, and bus rolled away. Who’d think that was a good thing? I did.
First, I was proud of myself for not running after the bus (doctor’s orders).
Second, I used my the lessons/tools I was given in post-illness therapy – that is, I didn’t let missing the bus get me into the “if I hadn’t gotten lung disease I would’ve caught that bus” funk I would’ve felt in those first six months after beating the disease. Instead, I just admired the twilight for 15 minutes until the next bus arrived…
I love that therapy has taught me to appreciate what I have (miraculously stable health, a beautifull twilight evening) rather than what I lost (ability to sprint after a bus). That is the best part of my post illness therapy — a year later I am still able to use the tools I learned.