The days of worry and woe aren't over, but the complaining is.  I mean, it Has to be.  I got so sick of hearing myself, that the universe stopped me.  Literally.  I jumped 7 feet from a fence and landed on the cement floor on my feet, twerking my tibia and reworking my pride. My leg was so shattered I was rushed from urgent care to emergency surgery  tout de suite.   I was so high on pain meds I was  telling everyone I had been training for the Olympics and forgot my javelin.  Yep, I was higher than a kite and just enjoying the ride. 
I spent 6 months in what I would call the Cuckoo's Nest, kicked and screamed my way out of basically everything they tried to do.  It was my stop point. My "remember what is precious" point.  My "everything is temporary" point.  I was re-born, but not in the biblical sense.  I was given another chance to have a different life, a better focus and a need to find gratitude in all things.
I learned how to walk again but my fear kept me from taking that first step.  I think about it often. At the rehab center, I masked out the stink from the halls, and focused on literally putitng one foot in front of the other.  I only had my art materials and a few clothes, a bag of toiletries from where I was dog sitting at the time of the accident .  The dogs owner came back to deliver both my car and my stuff and told me that the dog buried an eye pack the emy people left right where I fell.  Smart pooch. 
I couldn't wash my clothes for 6 months, as they wouldn't ever make it back to me, so I handwashed everything like my grandma did in the 60's.  I reinvented my wheel.  I taped the holes, polished the rims as best as I could and now I'm rolling away from a life of pain and loss, and moving toward something greater.
The things I'm grateful for are many.  I have my health, my port-less chest, and a cat named Yoda.  I have my girls, a great job and a cute lil' jeep.  My house is not ideal, but it is home for now.  So I am rich.  Rich by the simple standards of a life free of judgement and bias, helpful hopeful me sees lost pathetic me now and then.  Having tea with her is out of respect, not out of pity, and when the time comes, I can let go of her hand, not feeling I have to fix her anywhere, anytime.  Free to disconnect.
This new me isn't void of fears though.  At times my fears get the best of me and I'm overcome with nausea and what-ifs again.  I may have stopped the loop, but I haven't yet learned a way to fully detach, but I'm improving every day.  I feel stronger even though I look compromised.  A limp that I have yet to straighten reminds me there is still work to be done.  Don't get complacent.  Don't get too comfortable.