Learning to be well.

It’s been 4 weeks now since I figured out my ME. I’ve been recovering ever since. My activity level compared to a healthy person soared up to 70%.
I’ve been doing stuff!

The last two weeks I had several knitters over for day long visits. I baked cakes for them and cleaned the house and had gone out and bought gifts and did the groceries and returned to the store the same day to pick up something else I needed. I showered.
It was amazing!
Last Friday I topped it with a visit of my own: I took a 2,5 hours train ride to a knitters’ house. Stayed there all day at the wool party and then took the train back.

That was a bit too much for me and my body.
At the end of the party I burst out in tears because I was too tired. I was much embarrassed because tears did nót fit the mood at that party. Luckily they know me and my condition and knew it was my body crying, not me.
But I still had to travel back to home, cradling my overwhelmed body and exhausted mind. We did it, my body and me. We arrived at my home town and my husband was there to pick me up at the station. He brought me home, he had already put tooth paste on my brush, and 4 minutes after I stepped over the threshold I was in bed, asleep.

Now I’m in the recovery zone, recovering from these two weeks in which I pushed the envelope. I’m not complaining (much).
I’m amazed how well I spring back from all the tiring things. Even with the collapse in Friday -which wasn’t a crash so well done, team me!- I managed to drive to the cabin by myself on Sunday. And I’ve been busy here. Doing laundry and cooking yesterday, both on the same day.
I skirted a dirty sheeps’ fleece on Sunday!

This is really weird.

So yes, lots of activity, even while recovering from two tiring weeks. My digestion is not well, with all of the cakes and wonderful stuff I ate. So it’s back to chicken soup, I made a big batch yesterday.
I have all kind of aches, my body would really like a warm bath. I’m picking up my daily walk again today, movement will help getting rid of aches and waste drifting in the blood stream.
I’m doing well with the Hydrocortisone, judging by the mad skin reaction to mosquito bites and oven burns (baking cakes) I have not suppressed my immune system.

The most wonderful thing about all this is that I actually have to LEARN to be well again.
First thing was imagining how it is to be well. I had not done so in many years. Not that I was lamenting in all the things I could not do all the time. Comparing what I wanted to do to what I actually could do was just not something that took up residence in my mind. There was the regular disappointment when I had to decline an invitation, again, or back out of engagements. Those were times of hot tears.
But hot tears dry quickly. I never laid around for long, pining for the time when I used to be able to do alllllll these things and now I can’t and boohoo.

Now I do. Now I’m mentally exploring what a healthy person can do in a day. What I can do, soon. What I would like to do. What would I like to do?
What now, will make me sing and cheer and jump out of bed and start the day eagerly?
It’s a freeing line of thoughts to follow.

(Again I’ve stumbled upon an area of thought that shifts the way I see the world, making it once as big, without actually changing anything in the physical world or in my daily reality. I’m amazed at how much there is to explore in the mind’s world.)
(Other such experiences I had were:

  • when I first started to see a city/architecture as a sequence of spaces instead of masses. Spaces allow movement through them, people moving, with their eyes seeing and their bodily mass associate to the masses around them, being it architectural or human masses.
  • when I used magic mushrooms -one time only and it aroused a dangerous interest in a repeat experience which luckily I did not pursue, more by chance than by smart- and I realized my eyes do not portray the world as it is. I saw colours and shapes in ways I’d never seen before. It told me the world is more than and different from how I see it and it started thoughts about being an entity in a world but not off this world, not in the way the senses suggest. Basic philosophy stuff, but quite different when approached from an emotional perception than dry intellect, as I had done up to that moment.
  • when I finally slowed down, here in the cabin, ill, dazed. Finally stopped absorbing the news and caffeine and the urban way of life and career opportunities and getting ahead and having goals and planning my days. When a day would just float by and I’d be. Just be. Just like the cat is. Like the tree is. No stress, no plans. There’s a whole world opening up once you just “be”. And I’m of a mind that it may be the true world, the way of our planet through all its scales and subjects of science. The world all other life lives in. Ought to live in. And that humans are the odd ones out, running our monkey business because of that brain we’ve got.
  • first time turning a heel when knitting a sock. Forging a 3D shape out of plane constructions is magic. A magic you can tailor to the specifics of your body. Suddenly you are a creator and a fashion designer. Linked with all garment makers that came before, which goes back straight to the very beginning of human existence.
  • first time driving my own car on the motor way. Freedom! I could just keep on driving, I could I could. And: operating a machine to bypass the body’s limitations. It’s what we humans do. It’s what female aviators did, a hundred years ago.

Anyway… )

LEARNING TO BE WELL
Now I find I have NOT gotten more hours in a day with the more energy I’ve gained.
If anything, the process of choosing and setting priorities has become more pressing. Because there are more opportunities and options.

Luckily I’ve trained a bit for this, while being ill.
I now realize I could pour all my new found energy and time into getting my house clean, into getting a well coordinated garderobe or into knitting all the yarn I have.
It’s so easy to loose your day in chores, administration, keeping up with people, keeping up with the news and getting things done.

Instead I will have to live in a house that’s not much more tidy then it was 4 years ago nor will I have perfect garments and I will probably die, a hundred years from now, in possession of some of the same skeins of yarn I already have.

Instead there’s that one golden hour a day, right after breakfast, in which I can do the thing that matters to me most.
I have to learn to leave all the other stuff for later. And figure out what it is that matters to me most.

You already guessed it has to do with art, illustration and producing something. The weird thing is that for the past 3 days I’ve set aside that Golden Hour for just those things. But I don’t use it.
I squander my hour on stuff. The internet. Letters that need to be written. Appointments that need to be made. Laundry that needs to be done.
And I find myself at night, sitting at the edge of my bed, quickly scribbling the drawing I had planned for that day. Or any drawing.

It seems I am afraid of doing the one thing I like to do most. I excel in distracting myself. In finding excuses.
Like today. Today I wrote this post and now I need to rest up (remember the past two weeks). Surely there’s no occasion to draw today…

It probably has to do with assigning to much weight to the choice I want to make. I’m planning again. Not being. What a strange new world!

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