Sometimes I think I have it all down, that I’m all good and adjusted.
Then I turn the corner and I run right into a wall. And I’m reminded of how it’s such a long tiresome process sometimes. It’s something I always do, an adaptation I do each day. It doesn’t get done, it gets adjusted to.
So that’s a bit complex, but what I mean is I get adjusted to being adjusted. Not necessarily the individual action I am adjusting to, but the adjusting process. And it’s a process.
So much so. It’s something each day I think, okay, I will conquer this day and the things that are different, I will take in strides, and it will be okay.
The days when I just want to stay here where things are comfortable, when I feel like sensory overload, I will get past them.
It’s hard. It’s not perfect. And I’m definitely not done.
But, it’s a process. And so I keep on going.
(what choice did I have anyway?)