I woke up with my ass hanging halfway off the bed, courtesy of my 12-pound dachshund. I then jumped on Facebook, well not literally. Squinting to see the smudged screen, I searched for my glasses in my purse and under my bed, and then I tore apart my closet with no luck.
Afterward, my basement apartment was a bigger mess than what a seven-point earthquake would leave behind, I went back to my computer. A chat message from my friend said my glasses were at her house, as well as my hat.
Just an average day in Honey-land. But I guess that’s how any person would turn out if they shared the same name with a breakfast cereal and a graham cracker.
Taking a long sigh, I headed upstairs to my parents’ dwelling to fish my cell phone out of a container of rice. When I plugged it in a few sparks crackled, almost electrocuting me. Damn, next time it might be better not to let my phone take a dive into the Tavernacle Social Club’s toilet.
And speaking of toilets, there went another 50 bucks down one, leaving my checking account on the big, fat zero when I had a week left until I was paid by the big man in the country.
Needless to say, I slid back under my covers as my dog surrounded me with kisses. I went to sleep, forgetting to set my alarm for the anxiety group.
A few hours later, I took my morning Paxil and then headed to the shower, hoping the warm water would make me feel better. It did a little, giving me enough energy to attempt yoga. When that failed, I went to writing and lost myself in my YA novel. Until a migraine seeped into my brain and girl cramps became so strong that I collapsed on the floor.
My depression and anxiety constantly makes me feel like an industrial-sized knife is being jammed into my insides, so when you toss in physical pain it’s like adding a chain saw and running it all over my body. The pain joined together to swallow me up whole until I couldn’t separate the mental from the physical. It was all the same to me.
I kneeled down to pray as tears enveloped me. “Please, help me. I need some help.”
My parents were in Oregon and all of my friends’ phone numbers were fried. And since it was already seven o’clock, I thought everyone probably had plans.
As if on cue the home phone started ringing. My older sister, Angie said she had a phone for me, giving me enough energy to take a few Tylenol and head out to West Valley with my doggy in tow.
“Aunt Honey.” Young voices encircled me before I even closed my sister’s door behind me.
“Hi, Hannah banana,” I said to the littlest one, as she pet my dog. Then I plopped down at the table.
My 12-year old nephew sat down. “Who opened the Oreos?”
I pointed to his younger sister, who wore half of a cookie on her face.
He laughed. “Duh.”
“Here’s the phone,” Angie said as she gave it to me.
I thanked her and stayed a while to visit with her family, getting lost in their happiness. My niece with the Oreo mustache let me hug her briefly before taking off to do a few twirls. The older niece hugged me goodbye, saying she liked my Hello Kitty steering wheel cover. The huge smile on her face became contagious. I thanked her, and then my sister for giving me the cell phone. My stomach pain and headache had disappeared. I was surprised because Tylenol never helps. It’s like taking a sugar pill since I used to swallow them as if they were candy.
On the way home, I let my dog get high by hanging her head out the window. At home, I watched the little doggy run around the house at top speed as I tried to shove my SIM card into the Sprint phone. After trying about five times I noticed there wasn’t a place for it.
Back in my messy bedroom, I turned off my light, ready to face another day. My dog planted herself in the middle of the bed, and pushed her tiny legs against my side to get more room. Closing my eyes, my niece’s sweet face with its messy mustache reminded me life didn’t have to be easy to be beautiful.