Control

Day two of my "cleanse". It is kicking my ass, literally. Good thing I have no where to go. I am tethered to the bathroom. I was on the couch yesterday, convinced that I was suddenly struck with the flu. I felt awful. Freezing cold, chills, muscle aches, nausea. Apparently, these are all the side effects of the cleanse. This is supposed to be happening to me. All of the toxins in my body are leaving. I hate the process of this, but I guess I am looking for some sort of results that are nothing short of miraculous. When I read about it, it sounded so wonderful. To feel "renewed". To feel fresh and clean, within. I want the increased energy they promised, and the loss of the sluggishness I feel on a daily basis. I want to feel healthy. I want to have some form of control, over just one small part of my life. I feel that I cannot control any of it. I can control what goes in my mouth, so this is the very least I can do.
I wrote a letter the other day, to the girl who hit us, and totaled our car. It was a two page letter, explaining what that accident has done to my family, financially, and how I am trapped in my house because of it. I explained everything to her, and  my tone was very nice. I mailed the letter, thinking that a fellow human being might do the right thing, and right the wrong she caused, but I expect I will hear nothing, which is so odd to me. She has a copy of the police report. She has our address. She saw the ambulance come and take David away. She saw my scared girls. Why silence? I would not be able to sleep at night if I knew my mistake had caused so much damage. Why not a call, or a letter? Is that how people operate these days? No one cares? It's all business? Not a note to say that you hope everyone is alright? It is so bizarre to me, how we all live together on this earth, and how little we seem to think of one another. It makes me worried.
David's opportunity to work in the Middle East is taking forever to happen. That makes me feel very out of control. I wish I could talk to someone there, at his job, but that would be bizarre. Imagine me, David's wife, calling his job, looking for information? That is how crazy I feel some days.
I must go make my lemonade now. Four tablespoon's of lemon juice. Four tablespoon's of maple syrup. A few pinches of cayenne pepper, in 16 oz. of water.
And so begins my Tuesday.