Yesterday was an energy depletion - both physically and emotionally -
which means I'm starting off behind today. There have been a lot of
those days lately.
I don't want to dwell on this, but if you know someone with one of the 'invisible' diseases - like lupus, it might be helpful to read The Spoon Theory by Christine Miserandino. Christine was trying to describe to a friend what it was like to have lupus. Because she and her friend were in a restaurant and there were spoons handy, Christine used the example of spoons to explain the expenditure of energy - her limitations - and what happens when you run out of spoons (energy). It's an interesting read and one that I used to explain to my family what it takes for me to go to softball games, football games, etc. - mainly planning, so that I'll have spoons left when it's game time.
Anyway... I need to watch my spoons today.
Lunch with a friend. We've been friends for 35 years so it's easy and comfortable. We talk about grandchildren - my appointment at Penn - books - everything but Greg. I've cried in this restaurant too many times in the past few weeks. Not today, I think. But I don't make it. It's not too bad (a one-tissue cry - twice), but Greg is there all the time - whether I say his name or not.
After lunch, I head home and halfway there, I decide to go to the library instead. It's a beautiful day - not too hot - not too humid. It's a good day to unload and load my scooter. I read a lot of books on my Kindle and someone told me that you can rent Kindle (e-books) books (and audiobooks) online from the library - free with a library card.
I arrive at the library and there must be 40 cars in the parking lot. I unload my scooter and go in, noting the "senior" volunteers who are busy and smiling. I go to the counter, fill out the paperwork, hand the nice man my driver's license and he gives me a library card and instructions on how to download books from the library. Success!
I made today's bracelets this morning, before lunch, because I knew I'd be tired by the time I got home. - and I was right.
Michael meets me at the car with my 50' oxygen tube. That's one trip from the garage into the house that I don't have to carry that heavy portable oxygen tank. I am grateful. (Whoever said that you can't be depressed and grateful at the same time was completely wrong.)
I chat with Michael and then head for the couch to crash.
Michael finishes packing today's orders and asks me if I'd like to go out and get something for dinner. I apologize - tell him I'm sorry, but I can't - I'm done - out of spoons.
It was a day of 'Normal things' - things that go on in the world every day without thought. It's life. But sadness clouds my life with a haze. Some days the haze is thicker than others and I can hardly see, but even on the days with the lightest haze, my life is not the same - never will be. Will life always be lived through a haze?
I feel like I'm just putting in time.
I don't want to dwell on this, but if you know someone with one of the 'invisible' diseases - like lupus, it might be helpful to read The Spoon Theory by Christine Miserandino. Christine was trying to describe to a friend what it was like to have lupus. Because she and her friend were in a restaurant and there were spoons handy, Christine used the example of spoons to explain the expenditure of energy - her limitations - and what happens when you run out of spoons (energy). It's an interesting read and one that I used to explain to my family what it takes for me to go to softball games, football games, etc. - mainly planning, so that I'll have spoons left when it's game time.
Anyway... I need to watch my spoons today.
Lunch with a friend. We've been friends for 35 years so it's easy and comfortable. We talk about grandchildren - my appointment at Penn - books - everything but Greg. I've cried in this restaurant too many times in the past few weeks. Not today, I think. But I don't make it. It's not too bad (a one-tissue cry - twice), but Greg is there all the time - whether I say his name or not.
After lunch, I head home and halfway there, I decide to go to the library instead. It's a beautiful day - not too hot - not too humid. It's a good day to unload and load my scooter. I read a lot of books on my Kindle and someone told me that you can rent Kindle (e-books) books (and audiobooks) online from the library - free with a library card.
I arrive at the library and there must be 40 cars in the parking lot. I unload my scooter and go in, noting the "senior" volunteers who are busy and smiling. I go to the counter, fill out the paperwork, hand the nice man my driver's license and he gives me a library card and instructions on how to download books from the library. Success!
I made today's bracelets this morning, before lunch, because I knew I'd be tired by the time I got home. - and I was right.
Michael meets me at the car with my 50' oxygen tube. That's one trip from the garage into the house that I don't have to carry that heavy portable oxygen tank. I am grateful. (Whoever said that you can't be depressed and grateful at the same time was completely wrong.)
I chat with Michael and then head for the couch to crash.
Michael finishes packing today's orders and asks me if I'd like to go out and get something for dinner. I apologize - tell him I'm sorry, but I can't - I'm done - out of spoons.
It was a day of 'Normal things' - things that go on in the world every day without thought. It's life. But sadness clouds my life with a haze. Some days the haze is thicker than others and I can hardly see, but even on the days with the lightest haze, my life is not the same - never will be. Will life always be lived through a haze?
I feel like I'm just putting in time.
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