meds and graves

It's one of those days again. You know, where all the thoughts in your brain seem to be going at hyper-speed but none of them can settle down enough to make much sense. This type of day has become regular to me since the new year decided to show its face; perhaps this is because I'm on so much medicine.

I take medicine four times a day. In the morning, I take birth control and allergy medicine. At lunch, I take calcium plus vitamin D. Another calcium plus vitamin D at dinner, as well as a seperate vitamin D pill. I finish off the day with lexapro and prilosec. Before the last couple of days, I was also taking ambien at night. I used to pride myself in being the only member of my family without a pill box; sadly, this is not the case anymore. Oh, well, I should've known...being highly medicated seems to run in my family, as well as all the other diseases: depression, alcoholism, kidney desease, heart disease, alzheimer's. Fortunately, I've only been plagued with the first of those in my life so far, and hopefully it will be the only.

The weather has been splendid lately. Yesterday, I got to spend time outside, barefoot, in a graveyard. Those are three of my favorite things in the whole world: outside, barefoot, graveyards. I realize my graveyard obsession is weird. But for one thing, there's so much history there. Think about it: yesterday, I came across many graves that had a lifespan from the 1880's-1940's. Imagine what life was like in the 1880's! The Civil War had just ended 15 years before. Arizona, Idaho, Montana, New Mexico, North Dakota, South Dakota, Oklahoma, Utah, Washington, and Wyoming weren't even states yet, much less Alaska and Hawaii. Gasoline-powered cars hadn't been invented. The internet, cell phones, and blogs were still a whole century away. Then the 1940's, right in the heart of World War II, with Adolf Hitler's peak and downfall, the end of the Great Depression, and the beginning of the baby boomers. All these things I learned in history class were their reality.

I find a different part of myself in graveyards, too. As I looked at the graves yesterday, I thought about how far away these people seemed, but how close, too: my great grandmother Nannie was alive at the turn of the century, and I knew her. These people could've been her friends. When I looked out at the graves stretching before me, I felt an overwhelming desire to have known all the people who were now six feet under, enjoying heaven or hating hell. I don't want to know them now, though; I wish I had known them when they were alive. They all each different personalities, families, and hobbies. Thinking about how they were all people just like me is overwhelming, especially considering all the graves there are in the world.

The other night, I was driving home from Memphis, and I noticed how much more prominent the stars seem when there aren't many other lights around. The number of stars God created in the universe is absolutely mind-blowing. Just like the number of people. You know, God's love is a powerful thing. He crafted every being as well as each separate thing individually, with its own characteristics and purpose. I am one explosive ball of light in a billion, one tiny ant on this thing called earth. Yet, still, God calls me and forgives me and knows me. And if that's not love, I don't know what is.

My parents are coming to eat with my husband and me tonight, so I better get to cleaning this messy apartment. Hopefully this day will be more productive than the last, and tomorrow more productive than today. Life should be taken one move forward at a time, so here I go with some stepping stones.