The word of the day is

Progress.

I messed my back up over the weekend and ignored it.

I ignored it until Monday morning when I sat down to have my cup of coffee and very definitely couldn't get back up.

By Monday evening I was flat on my back with my knees in the air contemplating when that particular spider had made himself a trail across my ceiling.

Tuesday I sneezed once and knew in my soul that death would've been easier.

Thursday I sneezed again and would've only preferred a toe removal at best.

Progress.

Now I sit (really, I'm laying because sitting feels like I have angered the troll whose job it is to hold my ample rear end and my hips together but sitting just sounds better in this sentence) realizing that progress has been happening in me for a few months now.

When it didn't matter how pretty he was because every moment together felt empty and I walked away dry eyed.

Progress.

When I accepted that not being able to work out was resulting in the loss of a body I had worked really hard for but I had to stop anyway.

That was progress.

When I learned to stop being baited into endless arguments just because my attention was guaranteed.

Silence was progress.

When my old shadows came flooding back and I was able to avoid them once or twice.

Even baby steps are progress.

Holding my children to the standards they set for themselves rather than the bar I invariably raised over their heads.

Basic Dr. Seuss progress.

And, when I finally spoke into the darkness the words I had never said aloud knowing it would permanently change the way he looked at me.

Letting someone witness that fall was major progress.

Learning that it only takes an inch to show you're moving in any direction - and moving is everything.

Progress.

Soon, I'll be back to full, upright, non Neanderthal posture.

And that, I assure you, will be welcomed progress.