Fighting back

The title sounds fierce - the reality is a little more pathetic.  However, it's better than nothing.  Years ago, when I was young, I would consider that 'fighting back' would at least require me to man the barricades or something.  Nowadays fighting back means getting up, getting dressed and putting my bra on.  I know which is more difficult for me.

And yet, in the midst of all of it, I force myself to look for the beauty in life.  The sound of the birds.  The sparkle of a raindrop on a dead plant on a windowsill.  My husband telling me he still loves me after all these years.  I was bright and lively when we met, full of strength.  He used to tell me that I was the strong one of our partnership... but now I weep when I have to be helped to do simple things I once took for granted.

So today I am going to fight back.  I am properly (if painfully) dressed.  I have brushed my hair.  I have put on some make up.  I look considerably better than I feel.

And that's a start. 

Now, lead me to the barricades!