Deb Brandon: Living in Radiant Color


Tuesday, January 31, looked to be a busy day. I knew I shouldn’t have booked myself up. I’d been fraying at the edges lately. If I didn’t watch it the bloody brain would demand its price, and it wouldn’t be pretty.
I try to keep my Tuesdays clear to make sure I make it through to the weekend without a long-lasting crippling headache. I hadn’t been able to do it over the last few weeks and it wasn’t looking good.
I was a bit anxious going in, despite knowing that part of my day was going to be fun. My first meeting was to have coffee with Taylor, who was a student of mine a couple of years ago. It was wonderful catching up with him. He’s a lovely person, we spent an hour chatting—we could have easily gone on for another hour. I came away with a smile.
Pixabay Pixabay
Looking at my watch, I realized I had plenty of time to take my tag over to the parking office. I debated whether it was a good idea. Perhaps it would tip me over the edge. But for whatever reason I was anxious to do it. Was it a matter of getting a painful thing over with?
As I approached the parking office, I found myself speeding up. Was I that anxious? No. this wasn’t anxiety, this was… eagerness? I felt my heart thumping in my chest. I was, in fact eager. But how could that be?
I smiled at the woman behind the counter and explained that I was no longer allowed to drive. She started commiserating. And I found myself telling that it wasn’t really a big deal, that it was pat time, and it was just a matter of getting used to it. “Between Uber, buses, and friends, I’ll be fine. And the seizures aren’t really bad.”
I walked away grinning. I’m not sure why. I’d be saving a good chunk of change. I could even sell my car—with the book and all, I could certainly use the money.
Instead of the “Boohoo, I’ve lost another level of independence.” I felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders. It was “Woohoo, I’m free.” I’m still not sure why.
I practically danced over to my next meeting.