With a little help from my friends

Wow - talk about taking your mind off your own troubles.
What my friends - let's call him Seamus and her Trixie (she'd hate that) - are going through sure makes me feel a little less self-obsessed with my own paltry, every-day everybody-does-it-these-days divorce.

And 'Trixie', if your OT logs you on - say hello back!

Trixie had a stroke at 35 and is learning how to wipe her own bum right now,she can't hold her two-year-old daughter on her own lap and it's killing her that they've shaved part of her hair.
She was a compulsive clapper when she was happy and now it's all very zen - 'what's the sound of one hand clapping?'
But, no matter how hard it is going to be for her, I felt like the sun had come up all over again when she recognised me and we could laugh together.
She's still my 'Trixie' - LOL, I'm going to get joy out of that for DAYS, being able to call her that and she can't reach far enough to slap me for it.

So I've hooked up a volunteer nail beautician to give her nails the once-over - the volunteer used to be in the spinal unit herself.
I clipped her toenails and her sister-in-law has done her eyebrows and she's in a fantastic rehab centre where they're going to help her relearn the skills she needs to come home and go back to work even.
No more hospital gowns - we brought in all her own clothes and shoes and skin products, so the place can really be home for a while.
If they knew how hard she works on her appearance when she's well, they'd have had a beautician waiting for her at the door when she booked in.
But it felt good to be right, when she said 'that's half the problem of being here, feeling shit because you look shit'.

Seamus and I sat outside of Bunnings in the carpark repotting herbs and lavender, a 'goddess' lily (the tattoo she and Seamus got together says goddess and her daughter's name is Lily) and a pink-flowered Christmas Cactus to make the room smell less like a h0spital (and look a lot more like a bloody tropical holiday getaway).

She's found some great nurses who she can tease and who are impervious to her temper - if only they knew that temper of hers had nothing to do with the brain injury.

And, while she was busy on her new OT regime or sleeping off the exhaustion of her speech therapy, Seamus and I had a captive audience to bounce plans off of...we went swimming, played poker all night and took the kids out for junkfood and playgrounds.
They say misery loves company, but I think we both had a lot of fun talking about the great stuff ahead instead of the shit behind us both. It was a moment out of time and it gave us both space to breathe.
It wasn't sympathy or pity, it was just good company.

Of course, on the downside, it's hard being single and hanging around with a gorgeous, six-foot-six Dad with kids, in a car full of babyseats - definitely reduces my chances of picking up single men at the beach. LOL.

Lovely though, to be somewhere safe and friendly where 'real life' has also been suspended for a little while, to be able to talk and not feel guilty that you're sucking up someone else's life - that's the beauty of the hour and a half drive between their home and Trixie's hospital.
And I got to see him step up and take on a new future, with all the changes he's going to have to make in their home and their lives.
Why are some of us only at our best when we're facing insurmountable odds?

Whatever it was, these last few days, it saved my life I think.
That my first days away from my old home and my old life weren't spent crying over 'woulda, shoulda, couldabeens'...I will always be thankful for that time to see 'Trixie' & 'Seamus' both on the road to recovery, and to point myself in the same direction.