I’ve got a sweet, safe little spot all to myself now. I can’t talk about it much but the gratitude and relief is STUPENDOUS. It took over a month to begin to come home to the fact that I get to come home now.
Last week, I didn’t spend much time upright. Months of overdrafts on my body’s account were called in: colossal spoon-deficit.
If I’d had the energy to feel much, I would have been alarmed. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t anything: think, choose, feel, read, watch, be.
Just drifted through the hours, mostly lying down, listening to audiobooks I’d read (or had read to me; thanks, Mom!) at least a dozen times before. Drifting in and out of the stories. Falling asleep early, waking late. Weird, spacey surges of energy got the kitchen cleaned a couple of times, and enough whole food cooked (can’t afford premade) to keep me fed for another 2 or 3 days.
The laundry pile and state of the floors don’t bear thinking about. I’ve started cleaning the floor, one square yard at a time, and so far that’s one square yard. Yay!
Last week, I was incredibly seduced by the idea of giving up the considerable ongoing effort of living. Oh, the peace, the comfort, the over-ness…
Eventually, I made an agreement with myself to simply wait until summer. That’s all. Anything else I did would be pure bonus. Even knowing I’ve got dreadfully important things to do, I had to be ready to put them aside to get this internal agreement to work.
Of course, part of this is the wacky human version of hibernation, an unsatisfying slowdown without the restfulness or calm feelings that make it pleasant.
Cold dark winters are brutal. I never stop thinking about 2 things: deep warm baths and warm places to go in the winter. There’s no tub here and I’m not doing any more packing for awhile, though.
Compounded by longtime central pain, dysautonomia now with heart effects, bereavement, and recent protracted survival-stress, it’s really no darned wonder that letting this ride stop appealed to me!
I made promises which I take seriously, and there’s no question of my hurting myself. That’s just not going to happen.
I only wanted so badly to stop pushing back all the time, stop doing the relentless self-disciplines around every life activity — eating, sleeping, moving around, taking care of self and pet and home, making it to all those appointments, staying on top of my tasks, tracking the endless cyclogram* of signs & symptoms & exposures & feelings & barometric changes & solar weather & functional levels… you get the picture.
What chores await
I want the business from my failed homing efforts cleaned up and moved on as soon as possible, so I can stop paying rent on a useless space. Going back to it is a desperately nauseating thought. The place nearly killed me, I realize in retrospect.
At least one of my friends realized that at the time. Sigh.
I’m used to pushing past feelings, of course — “CRPS R US!” — but this stage of illness makes an issue out of being too dizzy or vomity to drive safely. (The vomiting is really intense and leaves me no control of my arms and legs… or anything, actually.)
I toy with the idea of a tree falling on the thing hard enough to trigger an insurance writeoff… happy thought! Well, actually, I’m not fussy; anything that totals it and doesn’t harm anyone would be fine with me.
Dreaming is free. Meanwhile, I’m working on healing as hard as I can. This is one of several weighty and important things to manage, and I know a few of you know how much that’s like trying to run with no legs.
But I’m getting better
This morning, I could actually taste the raw sugar in my tea. That’s kind of amazing. I didn’t realize I’d simply stopped being able to taste sweetness. It’s these little things that give me some rational hope.
This first day that I’ve been well enough to get out, I loaded up on blue fruit and low-FODMAP carbs.
Hubris, meet Reality-check
I’m sitting down to give these palpitations a chance to calm down before heading home. If I’m up to it, I’ll get some digestible protein; if not, I’ll go home and get back to horizontal.
Something about that statement seemed odd. H’mmm…
I know what to do when a statement seems odd: do a simple 3-step reality check!
Isy’s 3-step reality check**:
1. Review what I just said.
2. Take a moment to notice the totality of how my body feels, right now.
3. Think back over past 24 hours and look for other symptoms.
That took 5 seconds for the first 2 steps and another 6 for the third. It gets very efficient with practice.
I said to myself, “Self… Palpitations and breathlessness now, and seeing spots last night & this morning? You’re going home to lie the heck down, pal! No argument!” (The spots relate to blood flow, in my case, so heart symptoms have been acting up in a non-chest way.)
Can’t argue with that.
…Well, I could, but it’d be wilfully stupid and I disapprove of wilful stupidity — not just in politicians, but also in myself. So I’d better get stable enough to drive and then go home and lie down.
1 hr later…
*A cyclogram is a way of charting multiple changing elements in a single system, using a circular graph. It can be useful for seeing overlaps, backtracks, correlations, and other patterns among the different elements. Whether it’s better than an oblong line-graph is a matter of taste, but I find the sense of spinning-ness very apt here!
**Step 1 keeps me on track. I had two professions where everything depended on my getting things right, but I’m not perfect (despite best efforts!) so I got into the habit, very early on, of mental review and double-checking myself.
Step 2 is nearly magical in its effect. I stole it from the stress- and uncontrolled-pain-management skillset. It’s key to getting on top of any mind-clouding moment. Try it out, it’s magnificent!
Noticing the body response is a tremendously powerful step to getting back in charge. Once we can notice the physical self in an overcharged state, we can learn to steer it to a better physical state — breathe better, stand or sit better, lift the neck, release the shoulders — and wow! Suddenly it’s not about being so overwhelmed, it’s about a single moment (in a whole life) which we’re managing and moving more gracefully through. Great tool. Gets better and better with practice.
Step 3 I add for health issues, because chronic conditions need more context so we can figure out what’s going on. I started doing that for patients 30 years ago, so there’s a special rolodex in my brain for recent symptoms. When that rolodex went missing during the Hell Years, I noted symptoms & signs in my journal, which lived by my berth on the boat, always in reach. Over time (time which was passing anyway) that ability gradually got rebuilt.
Tracking matters. It really matters.