Last post, I wrote about chasing the pavement. How it felt to fly (walk halfway normally after limping, hip pain and occasional cane use). I was as "unflared" as I get these days, and living life to the fullest.
But by that night, I was no longer flying, but instead falling from the sky, and hitting the ground (aka my bed) hard.
THUD.
How that hurts, the hitting of the pavement when you've just been chasing it.
I wasn't sure if I was flaring or had just overdone it. My hands, feet and hips were wrecked. So I rested, again, tears trying to sneak out.
I forced myself to apply pen to journal page:
Deflated today. Have overdone it and thrown myself back into a flare, it seems. I'm sad to feel like this again so soon. I get relatively used to it when I'm in it, but slammed back to the ground after flying is brutal. The sudden shift in ability, energy, fatigue and pain levels is just plain rough.
Have to allow myself a bit of grief, some hours to process and adjust back to what is, unfortunately, pretty much my normal now.
Giving myself some grace today. I know I'll adjust soon, but for today I'm just really sad to be chronically ill.
It took some days but it seems I haven't completely re-flared myself, just overdid it. I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful for the memories of getting up early, walking quickly, watching the sunrise, taking pictures and listening to music in my neighborhood.
Maybe the memories are worth the pay off. That's something I'm still trying to decide.
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Today? Looking forward to (in)RL!, (in)courage's first virtual conference event. I've written about Sara Frankl here before. Sara, our gitzengirl, was homebound due to Ankylosing Spondylitis and severe complications, including to her lungs. She died in September of last year, just one year and 2 days after I was diagnosed with the same disease.
I will always be grateful for her example to Choose Joy despite circumstances, and I look forward with great anticipation to meeting her one day. Today the (in)RL conference agenda includes a portion dedicated to the memory of our community's sweet Sara. There will be tears. And we will then remember what we are here to do: live fully, live well and with intention, and choose joy despite our abilities and our circumstances.
I can do that. By the grace of God, one day at a time, I can do that.
Have a great weekend, my friends!
Oh this was beautiful and somewhere Sara is saying "Amen" sister! Was so glad to hang out with you last night even though I was too tear filled to twitter :) You have a beautiful way of expressing yourself :) Hugs sweet friend!
ReplyDeleteThank you for the great reminder to choose joy regardless of our present circumstances.
ReplyDeleteOh sweet friend... I like knowing you were there. Wasn't it a blessing?
ReplyDeleteYou are so welcome, Lisa!
ReplyDeleteSo many, many times this story has played out in my life. Only those that have lived this reality really know the process of pain, joy, pain, grief, pain... that we go through. Grabbing on to every little ray of hope, every good day, being reminded by our bodies of the reality which is ours and quietly grieving once again. I think the duration of the grieving has shortened in my life, but I truly do not believe that the process ever really goes away.
ReplyDeleteI've been going through this process as of late because of my new (first) grand baby. Wanting to be the grandmother I have always wanted to be, pushing myself beyond what my body to handle in order to love this new little life as well as take care of my own daughter who is exhausted with new motherhood. I, too, wonder and weigh if the memories are worth the payoff. Tears of grief always seem to give way to the right choice...
joy.
I remember Sarah as well. I think of you, of myself, of all who walk this journey - wondering, weighing, loving.
Thank you for a lovely post,
Theresa
Your words of understanding are a balm to my soul, Theresa. Congratulations of grandmotherhood! I hope you can find a good balance of loving your daughter and grandbaby and taking good care of YOU, also.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for this lovely comment.
I very much identify with this post. When I read about you getting up early to walk, chasing pavement and being alive, I was in awe of your courage to launch forth like that without hesitation. If I feel able to do things, if I feel energy, I tend not to trust that; I cautiously tip-toe into it because of the crash at the end. I will try to be more like you and do ALL I can when I can.
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