The thought of commuting home today was enough to drain me of my remaining barely-enough spoons (look up the spoon theory). In fact, since last week I have been feeling my body battle a flare up, and when I woke this morning it was as clear as the gloomy weather (😩) that a flare was on.
Did I say “when I woke”? More like, when I got out of bed, cos “woke” implies sleep, and thanks to restless legs and grand-scale nausea, I mooned the ceiling till day break.
It had been raining all dawn, I was cold to the marrow, the pain in and all over my body was the ‘been-in-a-fatal-car-crash’ kind, and everything screamed “sleep!”. I proceeded to throw a mini-tantrum up in my head, not ready to make the choice of staying home, or heading out, seeing it was going to be a packed day. It was time, yet again, to give myself a talk. Today, it was a longer talk, and I understood the difference between Acceptance and Resignation.
Coming to terms with what is, has not been easy. You first face denial, then when you move from there and ‘accept’ what is, there comes a genuine struggle between your need for a solid support system (at least that one God-sent person that is your personal person) and the allure of solitude and silence. During flare-ups when all the symptoms are multiplied a million and one times, you face the healthy acceptance-versus-resignation struggle. Do I stay here in bed and mope or feel sorry for myself, wishing I were dead, or do I weigh things? My first choice was to settle for that resignation that plunges me neck deep in a flooded pity-party, but ‘normalcy’ stood questioning me; “how can you manage today? Any Ideas?”
An hour and half later, this was me walking down the corridor to class
I got there about 15 minutes before my first class, fished out my pillow from the storage spaces in the back of the class, finished the rest of my Tetley decaf tea, and made myself as comfortable as the setting could afford, as the class started. Although on a no-flare day class would have been much better, making the best of the situation gave me at least 50% and not zero, of what went on. Taking my meds, consciously pacing myself, napping as and when, and keeping my water intake going nicely, helped me meet some deadlines I had today. Also, interracting with my new family – The Rheusolute Support Group (@trighana) and allowing myself to experience positivity, lit up the day a bit more. Later in the day, I soaked up some music, studied the Word, and spent some online time with someone special.
Acceptance means knowing “I am not like the perfectly healthy person” and that “I need to listen to my body a lot closely, and make the best out of potentially terrible days.” It means being true to my capacities, and not pushing myself overboard. It means being optimistic about more good days, and an everyday -goodday nearest future. It means taking my meds, eating well, spending time with people who are healthy for me, laughing a lot, loving a lot.
Acceptance is a pat on the back, like now, being back home from a long day of managing a flare up and still experiencing a flare up, yet glad I could get some work done, no matter how small. It is not a growing coldness, nor is it a constant bemoaning. It is a one-day-at-a-time grace-filled living, a pillow in the class, your sweetheart’s healing hug, a hearty laughter in spite of yourself, and hope for another day.
There were reasons why I had to brave through today…there’s a long weekend ahead, and I intend to kick this flareup in the butt with a comprehensive plan, which is this;
And it shall be executed.
Nope, acceptance is not resignation!