This is a first draft of an essay I wrote for chicken soup for the soul. I do not think I ever submitted it.

=====

On a clear, sunny morning in spring time my day started like all others. I worked myself out of bed, and walked to the bathroom with my hands planted at the base of my spine. I moved with difficulty, as I was in a lot of physical pain. After a long shower I put on some clothes, and walked downstairs to eat.

After my breakfast I stood up, and proceeded to wash the dishes left standing from the night before.

While I was stacking the plates in the rack to dry, a single tear slid down my cheek. I brushed it away with the palm of my hand. More tears raced down my cheeks, and I had to sit down in my chair before my legs gave way.

As the tears flowed, many thoughts raced through my head. I, always the inquisitive one, wanted to know why I broke down and cried, while my emotions seemed to be in some sort of balance lately.

The answer came soon, and it was only one word: acceptance.

I looked at the body that was mine, slumped in the chair, a handkerchief dabbing the stream of tears away. I asked myself why I punished myself. Why could I not allow my body to rest a bit longer, so I could better deal with the day ahead.

While the last tears dried on my skin, I realized acceptance was the key, the only key, to my recovery. My body gave the signals, and I could only accept them for what they were telling me.

I worked myself up from the chair, and walked back to my bedroom. I slipped back into my pajama’s, and crawled back in bed. Soon my body started to relax, and I fell asleep.

Two hours later I was able to finish the dishes without extra pain, because I had finally learned to move with the tides of my body, not against it.