ok. i am having a rough day. after a few rough days. so pardon the lack of shift key work, like capitals and some tricky punctuation. my right hand is having a bad tendon/joint/skin/muscle day, and has requested some personal time.
but, i needed to vent, and i dont have a voice recognition situation set up yet. so here goes:
spoons. i came upon this story at the beginning of my diagnosis, and liked the story. now, i GET the story. today, i am out of spoons, and i got shit to do. geez, it's only 11 am!
the concept is this: each person with fibromyalgia has a certain number of spoons. each time a task needs to be done-washing hair, styling hair, driving, fixing a meal, putting stuff away-it costs me a spoon. when i run out, i'm done. except, if i run out at 11 am, i am screwed.
Normals (you people-muggles, regular folk, whatever) have unlimited spoons. sure, maybe some days are harder than others, but regular tasks still get done-lifebood stuff like showering, eating, picking the kids up. Not us, though. when we run out, the day is done.
(for the complete story, read here)
so, i am out of spoons. i worked hard all week, gearing up for a big event at work. while i didn't do much of the heavy lifting on friday, i was there, delegating, talking, finishing up, taking on the stress of the event. it was worth it-don't get me wrong. it is one of my two favorite days of the year at work, and the other was only a couple weeks ago. it is the kind of day that gives me opportunity to bask in the results of the hard work of many.
but, i still needs me some spoons. i guess i liked the story from the beginning, liked the concept. but i didn't get it, quite. i got that at the end of the day, i was done. DONE. which for me was hard, because my work day didn't end til ten, usually. i would work a full day, then come home to family, do the family thing, then tackle the work project du jour after they went to bed. shopping, a crafty project, sorting, computer work. whatever. now, my day ends at 3. i have nothing left. if i am there til 6, then i know i will be asleep by 9. and it sucks. having seemingly limitless energy was great, and fibro fog would be more helpful if i could forget i used to get more stuff done. now, i don't know what to do with myself when i can't do much, so i sit, and then my mind wanders, which makes me ruminate on how shitty this disease can be.
gee, my therapist would be proud-she is all into this needing the grieve for the life i don't have anymore, blah blah blah, pity party crap. not much fun if you ask me. pity is only fun when it is followed by a swift kick in the ass, over something no bog deal, like not fitting into the size 10 pants i love, or getting regular milk in the latte instead of soy-not the pity that comes with the sad looks, the eyes that tell you they are glad they are not you, and don't know what to say.
today, i am still paying for the sins of friday. saturday, i expected it, and my good buddy norco came to visit, along with her pal, merlot, and later, syrah. that, along with a great relaxing trip to tahoe for the night with a hot guy was just what the dr. ordered. seriously, all my docs told me to relax. does that mean i can write off wine and hotel stays? i digress.
then, sunday seemed better. i walked a few blocks to breakfast, found food i could eat. enjoyed another drive home through the gorgeous sierra nevadas. then i ran errands. stoooooooopid. just pushing the damn cart took all i had. so, back home to chill, early to bed to make up for the lack of sleep from the norco/wine binge. 2 glasses and, watch out. today, having a hard time making food. showering seemed like an insurmountable task. hair, no effing way, au naturel for me, babeeee!
in a nod to my therapist (and know-it-all husband), i cried in the shower today. truly sobbed the why me, why now, wtf kind of sob. and, i feel better. it is true, grief is good, to a point. it is important to acknowledge the loss. i know i have more grief in me. i know more loss will come. in the meantime, im gonna head to costco. for more spoons.