Gifts of adulting

I advocate for being there for each other. In a sensible way because it really eases many of our struggles. Yesterday I had a serious migraine—the kind that makes you want to cry. So I tell my best friend, and because health practitioners are interesting people, she goes ahead to examine me. She makes a conclusion and recommends medication.
I had to have been working, so my colleague called, and I couldn’t be heard because I was in distress. A few minutes later, he shows up at my door and asks what was wrong. To which their next question was, Other than the pain, are you okay?” My friends have turned into me; personally, I’ll ask you about your physical pain, I’ll ask about the triggers, and then I’ll ask about your medical history. What pain medication have you used in the past? How often do you use them? In the grand scheme of things, that will help determine what you will need to ease the pain.
I still talked to another friend of mine, who reminded me why I did this in the first place. Why I love medicine: how it is that the things that heal our pain are more than the medicine. I am surrounded by intentional friendships, and I am loved intentionally.
My mother has instincts the size of Africa; she always calls when something is wrong. Sometimes I will not tell her, but she’ll still know. Yesterday was no exception. She called, and I had to tell her because even she could hear that something was off. She prayed about it, which is one of her highest love languages. I am loved, truly.
Today I celebrate my friends—the people that hold me when I can’t stand and reassure me when I need it. I have scaled the heights of life, and today I am grateful that this is where I am. It took time, but here we are,so I smile. I woke up, and the headache is gone. The pain isn’t here anymore.
It’s a brand new day, and I can’t wait to see what it brings my way.