Being clean

The rash has gotten to me in such a way that is making me reconsider the way my life is going. It is not the itch that is bugging me. It is the way it makes me feel dirty. I cannot control it. I cannot clean it away or get rid of it.

I woke up this morning feeling better about the situation. But as the day went on and the itch continued, I began to feel like I was being dragged along by a hook. Inept and almost lifeless. 

I realised then that all of this probably has nothing to do with the rash but my own perceptions of the rash. How it was defining my day. And how I went about it. I have hands that work. Two working legs (maybe one) but both with fully functioning blood vessels. I have a perfect head of black hair. My brain is still functioning. I can talk. And sing if I want to. 

And I have such supportive siblings. They let me rant and whinge. And when I say I have not done much, they point out the little things that I do... things that I take for granted. They understand when I least expect them to.

I was at a point where I had to wash my hands whenever I touched my foot. Like it was a disease. It is probably a good thing from a cleanliness perspective but I almost wanted to wash my hands every time and everything around me. The sofa. Clean my room. The bathroom. Move out of this house. 

It is so easy... the idea of leaving. But I am going to stay and deal with this. It is what it is. A rash. An infection. On my left foot. Yes, I cannot control the itch. And I do not know if it will get worse. But I know that I will not let it bring me down. 

I still have my life. And all the goods things that I love. And all the amazing things that I have yet to discover ahead of me. 

Here's to shutting my eyes and opening them again.