I live vicariously as I travel via the net gobbling up anything to do with geography, world history, anthropology, and ethnicities. I find these subjects fascinating.

And I absorb blog posts brimming with photos and wonderful stories about life in the outside world, a world I rarely see.

Living life confined to a bed (due to circulatory issues and wounds) is not very exciting, so I decided to compose this list: Ten of my favorite activities that I can no longer do with this broken body and Ten activities I can do.

And weighed them on this scale:

Demolished Dreams

1. I can no longer ride a bike. When I was a kid, I rode through the woods and down the hill no-hands on our street. My bike was my prized possession and a luxury for most in the fifties and sixties.
2. Kickball, my favorite game, and an impossible feat with paralyzed legs.
3. Going to the gym, especially after the birth of my second child. Exhilarating, get-the-blood-flowing sweaty hard work, but fun.
4. When I was a child living in Strathmore in New Jersey, a swing set sat in a playground nestled among some trees down the street from our house. Any spare moments I had found me running to that playground to claim a swing. Breathless, my hands gripping the chains, I pumped and kicked until my feet seemed to touch the clouds. Swinging was like dancing to me—both made the world and my troubles disappear.
5. Slip a shoe on and off of my foot. I watched a woman do that once and could not imagine how that was possible. I had a closet full of shoes, pumps, sandals, sneakers, and glittery platform shoes and forgotten how I put them on. Now I have none because my feet are so compromised to wounds that I can only wear socks.  I already had two digital surgeries.
6. Lay on a sandy beach close enough to the shore that the water tickled my feet and a sea breeze sprayed my face and body refreshing me on hot, sunny days.
7. Curl up in a chair and read a book. So comforting and easy to get lost in the words of the story. I have to lay flat on my back, cannot turn or bend my knees, or curl up in any way to absorb myself in a book. Even though I have Kindle, my eyes are bad and my attention span withered due to long days with caregivers.
8. A night out at the cinema sitting in a cushy seat, losing myself in a spectacular movie on a huge screen while munching buttery popcorn, swallowed up by surround sound. Thrown into the midst of a story. My flat screen TV, although enough, does not compare to a trip to a theater.
9. Bending over to pick something up off of the floor. I know – a simple thing, but when I watch others do it, I am in awe at how fast and easy they do it. For me it looks like a mountain never to be conquered again by me.
10. And most of all I miss dancing. My passion. I used to dance like they do on Dancing with the Stars. Truly, I did. I studied ballet, tap, and jazz for nine years and taught ballroom dancing in later years. After freed from my traffickers, my life became one of endless dance. I drifted away nearly every night for hours disco club hopping. It made the cruel world I had known disappear. I even danced while vacuuming. Oh, how I miss moving my feet to the beat of a song. 

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Crowning Moments – Activities I can do.

1. Move my arms and use my hands to type.
2. Cook on those rare days I get up. I am an avid gourmet cook-from-scratch gal, mainly Mediterranean, including all things Italian. It is a wonderful heart-healthy and cancer fighting diet. We deal with these health issues. But even if you are healthy, this diet may decrease future problems. Click here for more information about this diet.
3. Watch videos on Youtube of my beloved ocean. Hearing the crash of the waves, enthralled by the rippling sand as calm sea water gently tickles the shore. So thrilling for me. I can almost taste the sea salt.
4. Write, blog, and host websites. Releasing my soul from its chains, transparently and honestly. I have trust issues, but in the internet world, no one can really harm me there.
5. Helping and connecting with other victims of human trafficking, abuse, and sexual violence. I want to help victims come to grips with themselves—and climb out of the pit they were thrown into. I want to help others understand why it’s so difficult for many victims of sexual violence to recover—and how to embrace them without judgment, walk with them day by day, and help them to be restored.
6. Listen to tunes and use what muscles I have left and dance in my bed. Granted it is not the same, but it brings me joy. Even though my legs are paralyzed, I still have full sensation and some muscle tone thanks to my amazing physical therapist.
7. Snap pictures of little delights that capture my eye whenever I go to a doctors’ appointments (the only times I am allowed up). My photos bless me, like these dainty vibrant buds.
8. I meet and have friends from all over the world via the net and Facebook. Keeping in touch has never been easier. A I enjoy making new friends, one of the reasons I am thankful for WordPress blogs.
9. The aromas and lovely herb fragrances that travel from my kitchen {where my helper is cooking our dinner} underneath the opening in my pocket door, saturating my room with comfort and anticipation, satisfying my senses which still work.
10. And lastly, if I had not been confined to this bed I would have never met my four best friends: Laura, Maggie, Faith, and Vianney.

So as for the scale. It tips way to the right – the winner – Crowning Moments!

“Find a place inside where there’s joy,and the joy will burn out the pain.” Joseph Campbell