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Finding Meaning

You know, it must be the day before going back to work after being gone for more than two months, many weeks spent in a mental ward, when the phrases "making sense of it all " and "what's the meaning of life" keep emerging.

Right now is not the time to make sense or question meanings. It's the time to make sure that I have nylons with no runners and clean underwear and remember to put on deodorant in the morning. It's the time to make sure I take my meds properly and try to get a half hour's exercise each day. It's the time to make sure my shoes match each other and I've at least combed my hair (to subdue any "crazy lady" rumors floating around my office).

But it is surely NOT the moment to contemplate life as we know it and the meaning behind it. Most days it doesn't make any sense. Most days, I just try to get through the day. It's a small goal. But baby steps feel like leaps over mountains right now.

And I'm barely shuffling along.

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