time to panic

Yesterday was one of those days. I had things to do, places to be, and I was anxious as all get out.

These were not fancy, exciting things. I get more stressed by personal admin than I do by Grand Events.

My list?

• wash hair
• walk Jake
• go to bank
• return library book
• meet friend
• walk Girl2 to ballet
• buy printer ink

Ah, I can tell you’re all quaking in your boots. A list designed to defeat…

It was a day I yearned for the energy and clear head I once had. When I worked full time and didn’t consider washing my hair a task. When banks and library books and ink were done around the margins, without planning, without medication.

as if I’d wear heels like that to work!

I did everything (hurrah!), but collapsed into bed at 8pm, sore, overstimulated and unfit to move. I was actually delighted to get everything done- especially as my friend and colleague has a brain that works at a million miles a second. My plodding pace and repeated ‘what do you mean?’s meant that our quick coffee lasted for over 2 hours, and I ended up with a long list of things to read and consider and progress. That’s about 3 or 4 weeks good work for me, and she has it all done by this morning.

Most of the time I don’t think about what was, I get on with managing what is. But sometimes, oh, sometimes, I’d like to able to do more than one thing per day without needing more of the anti mad tablets.

pace yourself, woman dear

For those of us with limited energy, careful pacing is an important self management technique. Properly used it should help us cope with ebbs and flows in energy, by planning what we can reasonably be expected to do, and then resting. Building up, in teeny steps. Plateau. Build.

I’ve bought the books. I’ve read the leaflets. There are useful websites, and maybe even an app. I’ve spent time learning, with occupational therapists and at home.

Pacing is not about going flat out for a few days because something is ‘necessary’ or ‘interesting’, and then spending the rest of the week (if lucky) in bed.

Why can I not remember that?

Ah, well that’ll be the brain fog, forgetting that I need to pace.

On the other hand, that’ll be the curiosity, the mind sparking, the not wanting to miss a moment of what’s going on.

Me and ME- unpredicatable, unreliable and a joy to live with. Isn’t Spurs Fan a lucky chap?

image from pinterest

simplicity

For all the woes of the world.

For aches of the body and soul.

For warmth and comfort.

Bed and a hot water bottle.

That’s where you’ll find me.

.

Sidey’s weekend theme is simplicity.

wise words from one so young

Ambling along, me and the two Jakes. Our Jake, the snorey, smelly bundle most often found under foot. Jake Bugg, the teenager providing musical accompaniment for this morning’s walk.

Humming along through the streets, past the bakery (it’s been fancy flats for a few years, but the bricks appear to hold the memory, the merest hint, of many yummy smells) and along the river. Each of us in our own world.

Then, a pause. Play that again. What’s it called?

Common sense from an unexpected source.

Girl, you’ve been forgetting
Just how special you really are
And I try to remind you
Sometimes I can’t find you
But the truth is in your heart

So write a note to yourself

Girl, don’t beat yourself up
Your best is good enough
So pick the pen up

So write a note to yourself,
A note to yourself
And don’t be cruel,
‘Cause things do happen
And you know it’s not your fault
Don’t cover your wounds with the salt

Girl, let me tell you what I see
You’ve got to believe me
You’re a thing of beauty

Girl, put it in an envelope
Put it in the post
It’ll come back to your door

So write a note to yourself,
A note to yourself
And don’t be cruel,
‘Cause things do happen
And you know it’s not your fault
Don’t cover your wounds with the salt

And write a note to yourself
And read the note to yourself