These are the days that are 'work'.

Oh dear.

This may be a tough day.

My Gratitude Buddy sent me my daily mantra:

laughter is great medicine.  today let's laugh at our mistakes, past and present

First thing I thought of was how angry I get about lids.

Yes.

Lids.

I have this inability to get a lid on with one try.  They fly off the bottle or jar, straight to the ground.  Either when I'm taking it off, or trying to put it back on.

I am 'ill-lid-erate'.

It's one of the most frustrating things in my day, because it happens all day, every day, no matter how hard I try.

As I meandered out of my bedroom, I thought to myself, "Ok, Andréa.  We're going to laugh at every lid that flies across the floor today."

I proceeded up the stairs with the Bucket Head to let him out for his tinkle, while I checked the mail, turned on the heat and fed Psycho Kitty.

It's my morning routine.

But who's the mother fucker who pissed in my fucking cornflakes?!?!?

I opened the first envelope and read a letter telling me my driver's license has been revoked, and I need testing again because of my brain injury.

I opened a 2nd letter that told me I'm not qualified for  disability tax credit, so I owe the government money.

The 3rd letter told me the same thing, only I owed less than the first letter.

Laugh?

No.

Cry.

I'm having withdrawal from the nerve meds, which leaves my temper with less than normal strength to 'manage'.

Jeeeeeezus.  There's so little in there to 'manage' on a good day.  It's all my strength to think positive!

I spoke a bit with My Gratitude Buddy, and true to an awesome friend, she reminded me of another mantra.

you have to fight through the bad days to earn the best days of your life

Indeed.

This instantly took my out of control emotions that were quickly looking like we could have a sighting of Hurricane Andréa, and took it down a notch.

It's just a bad day.

That's all this is, coupled with a short fuse from withdrawal.

This is a test.

This is only a test.

Had this been a real disaster, my love would have woken up completely when I asked for support around the three letters.

Instead, Papi just rolled over and told me it will be fine, and continued where he left off mid-snore.

One thing I know is, just like when my back flares up and I have to do extra to get it to calm down, my mind is no different.

My mind can be just as seized as my back muscles.

I have to exercise my brain.

I have to rewire it to think of the positive in my life.

So, I'll start by reading my mirror.

You know the one that I covered up to shut that bitch the Anorexia Monster up?

Here ya go.

I'll share it with you.

Now I have to convince my mind that all of the above is true.

I don't like cornflakes anyway.