Small Act

It’s physically exhausting to feel the rapid pitter patter of a heart gone crazy. It makes me nervous, but it doesn’t hurt. It just makes drawing a breath or focusing pretty difficult. I really haven’t done anything to bring this on. It usually just appears out of nowhere. My cardiologist says it due to a damaged left ventricle not pumping enough blood. Whatever’s causing it, it’s a damn nuisance that really pisses me off.

I’ve written a many a word about the limitations my body has placed on me. The mental illnesses that plague me. The circumstances that trouble my soul. I do my damnedest not so much to ignore these things, but to accept them, then work to make things better. But believe me, under all this accepting façade, is a man who is often exhausted and afraid. So what do you do?, you may ask.
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For me the thing that drove was my responsibility to others. The caretaking of my family and my responsibility to myself. Despite whatever shortcomings I feel about myself, my mindfulness training has taught me to love myself. That fear is an accepted by-product of abuse and neglect. That when examined and forgiven can take you beyond any circumstance. So as I lay here, my old heart chilling just a bit. Reminding myself that just a small act of perseverance can pull you through any perceived trouble.