Glad we went to the women-only disco in the local community hall tonight. More glad to have decided against forcing my slightly wobbly legs to go to the salsa workshop this afternoon. I would have hated it, struggled, hated that I was struggling, and then gotten trapped in a frustration spiral – try harder! fail more! I thank mercy and good sense for that narrow escape.
The parts of the post-workshop dance that didn’t involve avoiding the merengue were fun, and I got to talk to lots of friends I haven’t seen for a while, including an acquaintance who has MS. She is also insane (no, really – last year she told me cheese was a gateway drug. A gateway to what, we still don’t know – but she was adamant- vehement even – about the dangers of dairy products. But not yoghurt. Just cheese.) Anyway, she and I were looking equally wobbly this time last year, but I now look a lot better and she looks a bit worse. So I’m feeling very grateful that I probably don’t have MS. I also feel a little terrified for her, and guilty that I am not as supportive of her as I could be because I can’t bear to discuss the details of her lost independence. I am extremely lucky to be in my own mostly independent shoes, big and slightly clumsy though they are. I’ve had a somewhat dependent year, so relief is palpable. I’m not sure I could stand a progressive decline, and I’m not sure what that says about me. Therefore I’m really very grateful that I can ponder what looks like a narrow escape. Planning for a dependent life is a whole other kettle of fish, and who wants a kettle of fish? Nobody, that’s who.
(Came back to tinker with the poor grammar and repetitive relief in this post, but am still struggling to articulate myself and am quite wobbly today – so I’ll just sign out with the still-valid refrain. Independence! Relief! Escape from Latin Dancing! Happy.)
