July 4 – Happy Independence Day… good-bye work, hello mission.

In this, my version of a journal, I guess I would classify the days leading up to leaving for Poland as chaotic with a touch of insanity. Somehow I thought I would easily be able to clean my house, do my laundry, sort and pack my clothes, and finish all my work for while I’m gone. I know… kind of dumb. I was able to do a lot of those things, but most of it was a half-assed job.

I’m sure there are things I forgot to let people know about at work, I packed more than I need and I may have left laundry in the dryer. At least I know my cats are being fed … but I think I forgot to tell my landlord that someone will be there. 

As for the trip itself—well… I think I may be in a “mood” or maybe it’s just coming off of at least six weeks of crazy workdays. Anyway, I feel basically like crap. And worse, I’ve felt that way almost the whole way here. I feel too old to hang out with the youth and too young to have anything in common with the older adults. I feel like I packed way too much for me to handle, which makes me feel in the way and left behind at the same time. On the planes I feel fidgety and too fat for the seats. 

And speaking of the plane ride, I’ve had an interestingly awful experience this trip. My feet have ballooned and swelled to at least 1 ½ to two times their size. It is horribly uncomfortable and even though I’ve now been off the plane for … … almost 8 hours, my feet are still swollen. My prayer, my wish, and my plea is for them to be back to normal tomorrow. As it is, they are a constant, painful reminder of how out-of-shape I am and how easy it is to feel left out. 

Tomorrow we are planning to go to the Krakow salt mines. This involves walking down a seemingly unending flight of stairs at the bottom of which you begin exploring this underground mini-city. If my feet are still the size of footballs, I don’t see how it will be possible for me to go. It makes me want to cry. It’s not the thought of the salt mines in particular, but just the feeling of being unable to do something because of my own physical condition. 

Somewhere deep inside it feels like this is what I deserve because of choices I’ve made and things I’ve done to my body. That doesn’t make me want to cry any less. I also feel like I’m being whiny or that I’m blowing things out of proportion, but the truth is—I have never seen my ankles & feet looking the way they do now. If I were at home, I would probably be seeing a doctor. I’m feeling a little scared… and praying, wishing and pleading for the lesson to be made clear and the pain to go on its way.