Curled Up

I watch Sophie curl up as tight as she can at the end of the bed.  I know how she feels.  I would like to curl up and close my eyes and ruby slipper it back in time.  I feel frozen much of the time.  I think the majority of my days are spent waiting.  Waiting to feel well enough and fill in the blank.  Waiting to feel up to eating.  Waiting to feel up to taking a shower.  Waiting for the gnawing cellular discomfort to pass.  Waiting until like a wave crashing over me and takes this feeling away.

This will pass.  Sometimes in an hour, sometimes in a few often in a week.  But it will pass and then some relief comes with no warning and no explanation.  Last night it was in the form of Kopp's custard.     All day from the moment I woke up I waited.  I hydrated.  I took supplements and prescriptions.  I did inhalers and relaxation breathing.  I attempted a movie, a distracting text and phone call.  I waited lying silently curled up and just kept thinking it will pass.  It will pass you can not force it - but it will; you must believe it will.  It will pass if even for a moment.

I had my summer helper arrive at 5 pm to fix me some dinner.  I sat up and stared at the rice and chicken, salad and asparagus.  The same meal I've stared at a hundred times before and I waited.  Start with one bite.  One bite and the next may come more easily.  Slowly making my way thru with the quiet of the room I took another.  Twenty minutes later and a quarter of the way thru it came to me - custard.  I need something dense - so Erin left for chocolate and vanilla and I encouraged myself to take another bite.

When she returned it had been nearly 40 minutes since the plate had been put in front of me and I had eaten a bit over half.  And then began eating a spoonful of custard and my whole body felt like it screamed thank you! We needed calories, density, easy.  Nothing to chew and another fifteen minutes went by and at 6:45pm after an entire day of waiting it all melted away.

I got up and finally cleared all the magazines and catalogs off my dining room table - a task that I didn't want anyone else to do but had alluded my energy for the last week.  I grabbed the frames from the closet in the playroom and my helper put some photos I had ordered two weeks prior into them…the frames that have been in the closet for 2 years.  I threw the cover for Sophie's pillow and a bath rug into the dryer.  And then it started to slip away, and my bedroom called once again.

That is what a day looks like.  It is difficult for me to have people in the house while they are doing - it looks like I am doing nothing - but the nothing is something - it's strategy, it's talking myself off a ledge and it's waiting.  Waiting for a moment to see if it arrives.  

A few nights prior - Monday I was able with my mom to take my friend's daughter back to school shopping.  Start to finish with driving was less than 2 hours.  But I was present - and able.  Not able to switch stores when I realized Nordstom Teen department in Milwaukee is nothing like it is in Scottsdale.  Not well enough to go to the cafe and order a drink or dessert.  Not well enough to drive her myself.  Not well enough to have her come over and maybe watch a movie or spend the night.  But well enough to get the task at hand completed and be present.  That is the thing nothing is like before, nothing isn't strategized or manipulated to appear different than it is - but it must be good enough.

I think about Sophie curled up at the end of my bed or on her pillow next to my pillow and think she isn't thinking is this good enough.  Yet, it is all I need.  So maybe I can learn a few lessons that good enough is often all any of us need.