Oh hey, it’s three-thirty in the morning, and I’m so ready to go to bed it’s not even funny. To be clear, in the above photo I’m yawning–not writhing in pain or having an orgasm, although I personally think it looks like some combination of the three. Anyway, I just got home from my friend Justin’s house. We decided to catch up after I taught a dance lesson this evening and somehow got stuck in a six-hour-long conversation. (We both like to talk and both like to listen.) At two-thirty, right about the time Justin began talking about world politics and the fabric of society (I’m not kidding), my brain started shutting down. Then I thought of the blog. “I’ve really got to go,” I said.

Now I’m at home, trying to string two thoughts together. For as difficult and challenging as yesterday was, today was a gem. A decent night’s rest did me a world of good, and yesterday’s daunting troubles seemed to have shrunk down to manageable sizes with a little slumber. This afternoon I saw my therapist, and when I told her about yesterday’s visit to the immunologist and subsequent phone conversation with the insurance company of the guy who read-ended me last year, she said, “It was a lot of information.” I laughed and said, “Yes, it was A LOT of information.”

This is one of my therapist’s deals I’m not sure I’ve talked about before. She often refers to things that happen as information or data. Like, if I met someone I really liked, and they stopped returning my messages or let it slip that they hate children, my therapist might say, “That sounds like an important piece of information.” What I like about this way of looking at things is that it’s neutral. It doesn’t judge a behavior or situation as right or wrong, but simply as a fact (he lied to me, the doctor said we needed to run more tests, the insurance company offered me a low sum of money to settle). Also, it implies that as we gather more information, we can (and should) adjust our behavior and attitudes accordingly (I’m moving on because I don’t date liars, okay–getting a diagnosis is going to take longer than I thought, I may need to speak up for myself or consult an attorney).

Anyway, I guess yesterday was information overload, more important facts than I could handle at one time, too many adjustments to make. What I’m learning in situations like these, to borrow another phrase from my therapist, is to “pump the brakes, Junior.” In other words, when I’m overwhelmed, I absolutely have to slow down. In terms of my health, no matter how much I want an answer, I have to be willing to adjust to the speed of the situation. My therapist said it was a matter of patience, which she said was a tough muscle to work out, but absolutely worth the effort. “I hate being a Debbie Downer,” she said, “but you’ll probably be working on patience for the rest of your life. It’s just the way life is.” She paused. “But it does get better.”

I guess pumping the brakes and patience go hand-in-hand. I’m usually rushing around, thinking I need to find answers “now,” but what I like about these ideas is that they suggest I don’t have to hurry. Rather, I can take my time, take in new information, and adjust accordingly. Now it’s four-ten in the morning, and part of me is “rushing” toward my typical thousand-word word count. But my eyes are heavy, and my ears are starting to itch, historically a pre-cursor to my breaking out in hives. (I just took some Benadryl, so I should be fine.) Still, I know I need to respect this “information” and adjust my behavior. I need to pump my brakes and cut tonight’s post short, trusting that I’ll still get to wherever it is I’m going even if I have to move a little slower to get there.