I had a notebook, when I was young, into which I’d copy passages from the books I was reading so that I could go back and study those passages long after the original books had been returned to the library. This notebook was the first secret I ever kept. It lived in a box of old knickknacks in my closet, nestled into my old school notebooks so that any younger siblings who may have stumbled on the box and opened it would lose interest before peering into the only private thing I had.

This notebook didn’t contain anything that anyone else would have considered terribly private, I suppose, but somehow it felt intensely private to me. Somehow those copied passages felt damning in aggregate in a way they’d never felt when scattered amongst their native chapters. Each passage chronicling some fictional character’s patience in the face of terrible mental or physical suffering. Each passage formed a facet of my utterly romanticized vision of what it meant to be Of Good Character.

These fictional people never complained, though they pushed themselves to the very edge of human endurance. They never cried or gave up or backed down or let important things slide no matter how much anguish they were dealing with. And, of course, they always ended up inspiring true and undying devotion in some handsome man or lovely woman in the end.

There’s a reason this stuff is called “fiction.”

In real life, patience comes in fits and starts. In real life, even the most patient person I’ve ever known sometimes felt crushed by the burden he had to bear, even if that was on rare occasion. And in real life, I’m not the most patient person I know, not by a long shot, even though I’ve grown used to people using that word to describe me.

My real life patience failed me today, worn down by one too many betrayals by this stupid body of mine. I wanted to rail at my friends and get the sympathy I couldn’t admit that I craved, but other people were already doing that and things felt too crowded. I wanted to just give in to the hateful fragility that will not loose its hold no matter how many coping mechanisms I try, but I had a couple of things to look forward to that I’d have had to give up if I’d just dropped everything and called it a day.

In real life, patience is noble, but most people just slog through. And so I railed at just the closest of friends, stuck the day through, enjoyed my anticipated evening, and then began coming to terms with the fact that I’m not cut out for this kind of patience, that I’m unskilled at being fragile, that I need an outlet, and that this is the least crowded outlet I know.

By Monday I will have rebuilt my capacity for patience. I’ll have stepped back for a while from the group that has moved from feeling supportive to feeling oppressive. I’ll have read and stared at the wall and written and watched some movies and stared at the wall some more. By Monday I’ll have dug out that old notebook of mine and had a good laugh at the passages my pre-adolescent self thought were so important, so fundamental to character, that they had to be hidden from the prying eyes of the rest of her family.

I truly doubt, though, that I will have inspired the undying devotion of any real-life person by Monday.

I had the day off today, though not because my job honors presidents or their holidays. No, I had the day off because I’d had to work yesterday. Ah well. It was still a day off.

I couldn’t sleep in, though, because I had an early acupuncture appointment (at which I learned that I “look more alive,” which is exactly how I feel), but I’m kind of glad I didn’t get to sleep late because then I didn’t get the chance to fritter away a perfectly beautiful day. I got up and out and got my day going. And when I got back I washed a pile of used ziplock bags (my least favorite chore), swept and mopped the kitchen and got it truly clean for the first time in longer than I’ll ever admit, took care of the trash and the kitty litter, curry combed the cat, and didn’t collapse on the couch in utter exhaustion afterwards! You know what that means? Three days of good energy levels in a row! Oh Frabjous day!!! I can’t tell you how ecstatic I am. I randomly smile during the day just because I’ll realize that whatever-it-is that I just did would have been Work even a week ago, and now it’s just part of living, as it should be.

Unfortunately, the day had one unpleasant interruption: a trip to the dentist. I have one filling that seems to need replacing more often than any filling really has a right to be replaced. I think it got replaced 4 times in one year, once. It had behaved pretty well for the last couple of years, but today it felt like a change. Unfortunately, I have “a-typical anatomy” and am therefore “special.” Yes, those are my dentist’s words. He also used the phrase “I guess we’ll have to improvise,” which is never something I want to hear a dentist say. Ever.

What makes me so special? Well, apparently when you try to numb my lower jaw, you end up numbing my ear and temple instead. Sitting here right now, 2 hours after my appointment, I still have absolutely no feeling in that upper region of my face, but my jaw, lip, and tongue never got the least bit numb. My nerves must be crossed.

Luckily, his improvisation worked out just fine and the rest of the appointment wasn’t the least bit traumatic. I just wish I weren’t quite so special.

Today could have been not so good. It had all the potential in the world to be below average. But in the end, things lined up so that this potential could never gather and organize itself against me.

So what made the day so good? Well, it was a perfect combination of the mundane and the special. This morning I did battle with my clogged bathroom drains and beat them into submission. Then I cleaned my kitchen, which predictably made my entire house feel clean, and rewarded myself with an hour and a half on the couch with tea and the episodes of “24” and “Hell’s Kitchen” that I’d missed this week (yay for TV shows that are available online!). I called and caught up with my brother for a while, learning that he an his wife are in the process are rescuing a small flock of pigeons and possibly a horse this week. I’m so glad that they rescue animals, but so amused at the thought of pigeons needing rescuing.

It was about at this point in my day that I realized I haven’t felt this normal in weeks, and after last week’s difficulty the contrast was especially stark and wonderful. It is such a luxury to decide what I want to do based on my actual preferences rather than my energy level. For the rest of the day I’d catch myself smiling at random moments simply because I no longer felt persistently crummy. Walking to the car without being aware of every step, conversing with ease, imagining a new recipe and looking forward to the process of cooking it as well as the meal itself, actually being hungry at normal times… it was as if I’d been transported back in time about 14 months.

But now I’m ahead of myself. I spent part of the afternoon at the local coffee shop, met a couple of great people, read some of a great book, and then went off with a friend to see Coraline (in enchanting 3D). What fun!! And for dinner I improvised with steak, mushrooms, onions, and red wine, and it turned out gloriously.

So all in all, I’d call today a success. I think I’ll go to bed early in hopes that tomorrow will be even half as energetic. But first, I’ll indulge in my favorite evening pass-time: book plus laptop plus cat plus tea. Or maybe I’ll have a glass of the wine I used in my dinner.

So yeah, not the best weekend, followed by not the best week. But things are looking up.

Tonight I left work at 7, went grocery shopping, dragged my groceries up 2 flights of stairs, put away the groceries, and still had enough energy to make an actual salad for dinner and clean up the kitchen after eating. I even thought of what I want to cook tomorrow, which is evidence of imagination and planning that requires a level of mental energy I no longer take for granted.

Three days ago it wouldn’t have occurred to me to even try these things. Two days ago, these would have been non-trivial tasks accomplished in the same way that I managed the walk from my car to work: chanting “right foot, left food, right foot, left foot” to myself. Yesterday I’d have done better, but even then the acupuncturist didn’t place all the needles she normally places because I was apparently too weak for them. But today, after a morning spent at home, things are starting to look up. I’m starting to feel like I’m just a tired and slightly wobbly version of me.

I look forward to tomorrow.