Just as there’s a fine line between ‘pacing’ and ‘doing too much’, there’s a very fine line between ‘resting’, ‘taking care’ and ‘wallowing’, being stuck in the ‘pity party’. I’m not so good at resting and I’m so keen to stay away from the pity party that I do too much. Then I get worn down, exhausted and have a good wallow. That leads to me doing too much to get out of that funk…
I did step back a bit from the volunteering, but it’s a very busy time, so I’m not totally retired. I’m exhausted, but not sorry. I’m still contributing! I can wash my hair and leave the house! Spurs Fan is not so impressed- I needed a 3 hour afternoon sleep after one meeting- but he is the Leader of Silly Amounts of Work, so can’t say too much.
I do get frustrated at not being able to do more, but I’ve accepted that I can’t do what I’d like, and wishing won’t make it so. In the meantime, I enjoy the girls’ reactions when I remember something, or have a bright idea. I get great encouragement for the teeniest things. The wee souls are generally very supportive.
Generally, I say.
For my writing class, I had to hand in a portfolio- in my case, a few fictional scenes, threads of a story. I burble away here, but fiction is new to me. I’m writing moments rather than plot lines. I’m practising. At the last class, the assignments were returned. I hadn’t expected them to be graded, so I was very impressed with myself. The grade was like the Irish dancing turning up medals- simply for encouragement- I was pleased and encouraged. I waved the bit of paper at Girl2.
“Look at the mark I got for my homework”, I said, proudly displaying a mark that would have earned her a take away pizza in the prep stages for the horrible transfer procedure.
“Is that the best you could do?”
Cheeky bism. I scoured my mind for when I may have greeted her turning up medals with disdain, but I’m so encouraging it’s sickening. She may have seen through me.
(My classmate and bloggy buddy, Emma, has posted her homework. You will enjoy it.)
Between the resting and the wallowing, I haven’t been writing. I’ve been keeping myself away from the computer in case I do work, but I need to just make myself write. I need the habit. But I have been reading, and I can’t complain about that. I’ve read two books of a crime series set in contemporary Belfast and am part way through the third. Police procedurals with effective team work, characters to care for, plots that capture the imagination and (so far) murderers that I want to hug. Most unexpected, and a worthwhile use of limited energy.
My mind has decided to express its creativity in dreams. I’ve been on the Jersey shore, discovering history where the boardwalk used to be. There have been journeys where I’ve had no control, and last night, well. I’ve been laughing all morning. I had parked the car, badly, indoors. While Spurs Fan was refereeing a soccer match, passing strangers had to take the car apart and reassemble it (dog basket, lipstick and deck chair included) outside for us to be able to get home. My mind is a mysterious place.