My Life (Regained)

Pursuant to some prior blogging where I talk about the change in meds and overall improvement, I’d like to let you all know that I feel like I am continuing to improve and come back to myself finally.  My endurance is increasing and now when I crash, it’s not so much into a crying hot mess as I just pass out and sleep.  Which means I’m still not quite ready to go back to work, but at least the thought of returning to a job doesn’t completely overwhelm me as it had been.

In an effort to reclaim some semblance of normalcy in our lives, Paul and I have started setting a better schedule for our days.  We actually go to bed at a more decent time than 3 am and we set an alarm so that we don’t end up sleeping half the day away.  We still nap if we need it, but the idea is to keep a  daytime schedule rather than being complete night owls.  We are also making the effort to actually get dressed each day, instead of sitting around in our jammies.  The psychology of being clothed helps with the framework of “day=clothes; night=jammies” and creates some order.  We are also trying to add at least one hour of actual chore time to each day, which will help get the house in order and that in turn, I believe, will help us feel better as we tame the wilderness of “stuff” that is piled up and set around.  Get the small things in order and the larger things will follow.  (I hope and that is my plan.)

Does this require conscious effort?  Of course.  Are there times when we just don’t feel like it?  Duh.  But it is still a workable plan of action and something worth pursuing.  We could continue to drift through our days, without purpose or plan and end up nowhere.  Or we can, to continue with the river type metaphor, grab a hold of the wheel of this ship of our lives and at least steer on a more considered and thoughtful course.  Where is that we want to go?  If you don’t set a destination, you won’t know when you get there.  Even “going with the flow”, which is a large part of my Buddhist beliefs, requires some idea of the port you’re headed for.  I don’t even mind steering down the river and checking out the various ports as they come up, one on this side of the river and one on that.  Interesting ones can be docked at to see if there’s something valuable for us there…but if no one’s steering at all, well you just slide on by and miss opportunities.

And what kind of opportunities am I hoping for?  How about being able to see my friends again–if they’ll still meet me after my being incommunicado for almost 2 years.  And if not being able to regain old friendships, then getting out there and making new friends, and being able to actually DO things with them.  I’d like to start checking out job possibilities and being more or less central to Manassas, Warrenton, Culpeper and Fredericksburg, that gives me a lot of area to look at.  I’d like a job that has career potential, a chance for promotions if I do well, a decent wage and a work environment that makes me glad to come to work each day.  (These jobs really do exist, so I hear.  My last job only had 2 out of 4 and it wasn’t career or promotions.)  I would dearly long to return to actively doing what I consider to be my “real” and main job in life: ministering to those who seek, healing the hurt and sick, counseling those who are troubled in mind or spirit.  This requires energy I have not had in a long time and I feel the urgency to get well enough myself to help others in their turn.  The fact that I am now married to a man who also has this as his primary mission means that we can join forces and hopefully make a difference where it counts.

I’m still trying to take it carefully and not overdo although that magic point of “too much” is still variable and fuzzy enough that I don’t always recognize it in time.  The difference in me is noticeable to the people who have been around me the past two years.  I am finally well enough that I have to look back over that time and realize just how terribly sick I was.  It is hard to identify fibro as “that” decimating…there’s no bones hanging out, no blood or pus, no trip to the hospital to prove that you are indeed in terrible health.  I have essentially lost two years of my life; I don’t remember huge chunks of time and only things like holidays really stand out when I try to remember.  I am so grateful for Paul as I could NOT have done this and fought through it without him.  If I had had to face it alone, I probably would have ended up making the ultimate decision to stop living.  That much pain, that much inability to live a meaningful life of any sort…why bother?  So Paul has been my strength and my support and my prod as I needed it.  Thank the gods for his doctor, whom he insisted I see.  Thank the gods for his love, his determination to get me well, his care and his never-ending support and encouragement.

I am feeling more and more like the real me again…and mortals everywhere shudder.

Namaste!

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