A funny thing happened to me while I was at work the other day.  I will preface this by saying you have to understand the context to get the punchline the universe delivered.  I've been dealing with major problems, like life or death problems, and usually if something goes wrong it's a trip to the ER and then admission and then days before they let me go.  I felt a small victory in the midst of dealing with this because it was so comedic in comparison to what I normally deal with.

So I was at work, been trudging through my days, grim determination fueling me.  It's just how I am, I address everything at work with an idea of "How can I accomplish this task with efficiency and grace?"  

Anyway, I had to sneeze.

So I did.  And I sneezed so hard.  It tore the walls asunder in my office, it moved me backwards twelve feet from my desk, my heart skipped over a double-dutch rope and back into step, I almost died.  That's hyperbole, but you get my drift.  

After that, I just continued working.  If you've done the same thing quite literally 100,000 or more times, you just get in a zone when you do it.  Later in the day, I took a shower, and realized I had a strange, um, protrusion?  From my navel.  Where they'd done a lot of surgeries.

Turns out, I sneezed myself a hernia.

I have to say, I laughed.  I called my nurse from my insurance and she asked me the same questions I asked myself, and it's no big deal, might need surgery, but it's nothing pressing (except for my insides pressing towards my outsides, hey-yooo! ~finger guns~).  

I thought you guys might get a laugh out of that.  We all eventually come to the age where we can sneeze and injure ourselves.  Thankfully, mine is minor, and doesn't include urinating on myself in public if I sneeze.  It could be much worse.    

On another note, I've been having trouble.  I feel empty most times, I feel like I'm spinning out again.  I don't like that feeling.  I know what I have to do, I just simply have to be better.  I've been depressed, and that's a whole other story.  I truly don't know if life can ever be what I wanted.  I'd explain how I feel, but I also think that if I give those words semblance, that if I say them, I have given them power and they will define my existence.  I prefer to face my depression and anxiety in a more warrior style, fighting it at every step, sometimes murdering it ruthlessly for the gain of happiness for an afternoon.  

I do wonder sometimes if it will ever get better.  And the answer, unequivocally, from the universe is that yes, yes it will, if you keep on fighting.  Sometimes that fight is degrading and demoralizing.  Sometimes I curl into a ball and just hope, unabashedly.  But as long as I hope, there can be a beginning tomorrow.  

Edited because I misspelled "Protrusion".  Thanks!