Here I am today. Back on my couch. Every move hazardous. And in great pain. I am checking my journal/chart of when I last wrote these words. CRITICAL! It was April 2018.
For months and months I’ve been moving forward. In gratitude and joy. It started late summer 2018 thanks to the long and record warm summer. A couple of set backs when fall arrived and February-March a bit more difficult, but nothing at all like my winters have been the past six years. Normally I am bedridden February-March and even April. This year I’ve been on my feet all winter! Attending every single choir rehearsal Wednesday evenings and singing all the concerts, sitting at my bar stool. That’s nothing but amazing!
You remember my hallway? My newly remodelled wonderful lavender hallway?
I even had the energy for project leading all that which is also remarkable. There was a problem though, how would I get my grandfathers wooden sofa and the big drawer painted?
You know what? I did it myself!!! Not in one take of course. It took me several weeks. Sitting on a chair for a little while and doing just the amount of work I could at the moment. But I got it done! And I can’t even describe the bliss I felt while doing it. Me, in my old painting cloths, dipping the brush in the paint and applying on the wood. Just like old times! A part of me that’s been buried for years waking up. Giving me that special kind of energy. It’s been like a miracle.
When May entered my back started to decline though. I didn’t want to way too much in to that. I just observed and adjusted a bit. The last Wednesday of the choir season May 22 was my worst for the semester, and it happened to coincide with the pre-summer concert. But sitting at my stool it still worked pretty good for me, and I am so glad it did.
Now it turns out I was really lucky. One more week and I couldn’t have done it. And today I am waking up in a state I haven’t been in for more than a year. Getting out of bed was risky and scary. So is sitting down at the toilet. As actually sitting on the toilet. Sharp pain alert. I am in my pyjamas on the couch. If I have to get up (which is a hazardous thing to put myself through as well) I am walking extremely slowly with the rollator - a Swedish version of a walker but with four wheels. My body is scared. I am scared.
Why is this happening? I have absolutely no idea. I have loved and been grateful for every minute of my many months of onward momentum. I even started to trust it. I felt a little bit like coming out on the other side. You know, like people occasionally do. And then they start touring holding speeches and end up in Ted Talks and make a lot of money.
I can’t say that was my plan (although that would have been grate!), but I did want to plan ahead. Thinking I would stay in that good place. That it was kind of over. A six and a half year dark experience changing for the light, and being just that, an experience overcome. I looked at Julian Assange when he was carried out of his room (we had been in house arrest for about the same amount of time) thinking (a bit smug I admit) that I have aged more well than he had…
Anyway, it could have been worse. Even though it’s happening right when the first summer month starts (sucks!), I'm grateful it isn’t mid winter. At least it isn’t dark and slippery outside. Also, this was my monthly blog-Sunday. A perfect way to spend a not-by-my-choice day at the couch. And I am planning on beating this.
No comments:
Post a Comment