Yesterday was not bad. I feel like I managed to cross off quite a few things on my “to do” list, which is not always the case. I folded and put away laundry, scheduled appointments, helped make sure people got to where they needed to be, when they needed to be there, paid some bills, cleaned the house, made some important phone calls, unloaded and (at least partially) reloaded the dishwasher, and was able to pull together a decent meal at a reasonable hour. I even managed to do a couple of things I enjoy. I put together a playlist on YouTube, and shared it, and even did a little bit of knitting. All in all, not a bad day.
I just wish, at the end of a day like that, I could look around and see all of the accomplishments, and all of the good things, instead of all of the things that didn’t get done, all of the things that will be waiting for me in the morning ~ the laundry that still needs washing, or folding, the still not very tidy house, all of the work I didn’t do. The truth is, there actually aren’t enough hours in a day for me to accomplish all of the things I am supposed to accomplish each day. If I add up all of the things like physical therapy, pulmonary rehab (breathing exercises, walking, etc.), household chores, and then basic needs like showering, eating, preparing food, getting to and from all of the places I need to be on any given day, and then try to occasionally squeeze in some recreational things like playing my banjo, knitting, sewing, gardening, reading…or, you know, anything other than just barely existing, I’m completely out of hours before I’m halfway done. This, I am convinced, is why I am always lagging behind.
I’m not sure what the solution is. The most obvious course of action would seem to be Do Less; but that’s impractical when most of the things I am doing are necessary. I don’t mean they SEEM necessary, I mean they are necessary. The first things to go when I find I am running short on time are the things I most enjoy, because I can’t very well give up things like eating, paying bills, and taking care of my body, (or, you know, cleaning the house, and making sure we have food and other basic household supplies, for that matter).
In some ways, a lot of this is the age-old “mom” problem ~ or maybe just human problem, but I do think it is especially common among moms, or parents, anyway (I just happen to be most familiar with the experience of actually being a mom) ~ of trying to do ALL. THE. THINGS. Which is not to say that no one else is doing any of the things. They are. Everyone here is busy living and managing their own lives, and honestly, doing a pretty good job of it. It’s just…well, as it turns out, I have a lot of life to manage. I have all of the usual stuff, and then I have this chronic illness. Oh, and this other chronic illness. Oh, and did I mention this chronic illness? Oh, and the chronic pain. And then there was the COVID-19, and the entire festival of longterm effects with which it has left me. Oh, and did I mention the chronic illness?
People say, “God doesn’t hand us more than we can handle,” (and then, if they are on the internet, they usually add some sparkling background and/or glowing flowery graphic). The thing is, God didn’t hand me asthma, that was genetics. I suspect Raynaud’s was, too, since quite a few people in my family have it; and while we are n the subject: raise your hand if you are a family member of mine who has fibromyalgia. (Do you see my hand in the air?) Then there’s CRPS which, in my case, was caused by a direct nerve injury, which I know God had absolutely nothing to do with, although I might have called out his name in the moment ~ and no, it was not in vain, I was genuinely begging for help. Epilepsy…I mean, who knows? I have a hard time believing God looked at me and went, “You know what? She’s doing such a fantastic job with everything down there…” That’s not the way I believe it works.
If I am wrong about this, I would like it publicly known, once and for all, that I am not very tough. I have been yelling “Uncle!” since, like, 6th grade, if not earlier. Also, while I am making public proclamations, I would love to have more time for hobbies. Hobbies that don’t include physical therapy. While it’s super useful, and I greatly appreciate all of my physical therapists, I’d like to have fewer of them, and more interesting hobbies. I mean, as long as I need all of my various therapists (physical therapists, respiratory therapists, etc.), I definitely would like to keep those, please. Thank you. Just, you know, in my “off time,” I’d like to work on something other than different ways I can squeeze rubber balls, stretch rubber bands, walk, use my doorway, and, you know, bend my knees…when I’m allowed to bend my knees. It’s weird. I have weird knees. Joints, really. I have weird joints. Should I add that to the list? Honestly, I think the next hobby I should take up is burning that list ~ except that, I kind of tried something like that once (you know, just living without thinking about any of my health issues, which some people tend to think I “obsess” over), and I ended up, unsurprisingly, in a lot worse health.
I think what I’d like is just a few more hours each day, and the energy to use them. With just those two adjustments, I feel I could really accomplish something.
Well, the year is young, and so is…well, so are my children. I am middle aged. But, hey, 50 is the new 30, right?
Well, lots to do today ~ and hey, look! I just spent all this time writing this. I’m not going to even think about whether or not that has set me back in any other department. One appointment down, one to go for the day, and the rest (or at least some of it) will get done. Or not.
Here’s to the climbing that hill.
The Low Life 