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Let Me Count the Days

It used to be I defined my days into two groups - work days, weekends. Easy. I remember the joy of Fridays, the depression setting in by Sunday night, that Monday morning feeling of dragging myself out of bed to start a new day. It was a long time ago that I had a traditional "job" - nine to five, what a way to make a living. Not that I didn't like what I did because I did. My work as a psychotherapist, especially when I was quite young and worked in the prison system, was fascinating, sometimes rewarding, on a few occasions downright scary...But I digress. My point here is that I was well-grounded in the days of the week. I never had to stop and think, what day is this? There was a rhythm to the days, they rose and fell like a graph on a chart.

But then I started my writing career quite a few years back and the days of the week got a bit jumbled. I didn't write on a 9 to 5 schedule. I didn't have a specific rhythm. I didn't have the pressure of a boss, except for deadlines to publishers. For the most part I lost track of my days. There was something disorienting about that but also something freeing. Any day could be a cheery Friday for me or a draggy Monday. Weekends, weekdays, they mushed together and that was fine.

Now, I'm once again acutely aware of which day of the week it is. No, I didn't get a "job". I didn't stop writing (obviously). And it's not that my week days are particularly different from my weekends as far as my personal life is concerned. It's all about this long, narrow plastic container with flip lids - seven flip lids to be exact. And there's a day of the week printed on every one of them going from Sunday through Saturday. Seven daily little sections that hold the pills I now take so that I stay healthy and hopefully get to do all the things I still want to do with my life. So my pills are my friends. They help my body and my mind. I have nothing against them, really I don't. But now every time Friday rolls around and I empty those Friday pills into the palm of my hand and I see that there are only Saturday's pills left before the pill box is refilled with next week's pills, it somehow feels like time is passing by too quickly. You take the pills to hopefully live longer and healthier and when the week's pills are almost gone in what seems a flash, you know another week of your life has fled by.

It's a real conundrum.

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