This will take time, I tell myself, but can the house and all it's demands wait for me to catch up? I am grateful to Tim for being so helpful, but also feel like I am imposing and presenting a dreadful picture of my worst self as I trudge through this health garbage. I am definitely not at my best right now. But the question looms -- will I ever be better? I hate drama, and while this feels hugely dramatic internally, I am trying to not let it wreak havoc in my external daily life. Day by day, I guess. Lots to focus on that I CAN do, but I feel guilty letting the other things that need doing fall by the wayside right now. "I can't do it right now" gets really old.
Thanks to giving in and taking the meds last night, I slept deeply and thanks to the warm and snuggly pugs, stayed there an extra hour so I could wake up slowly. Ellie stuck a stuffed yellow chickie in my face and squeaked it enthusiastically when I moved, but then nodded off herself, mid-squeak with it still filling her tiny mouth, when I didn't immediately jump up. Too adorable. I better think like a dog during this recovery phase. I don't see her worrying about housework and home maintenance. Au contraire. She carries her little squeaky toy around with her, changing to pink piggy when downstairs. Which reminds me that her toys need washing, as do the pugs themselves, as does just about everything in this house.
This "adulting" thing is hard enough let alone when life removes your batteries and makes it hard to stand up. On top of this mindset, I wish I could be diving into a shockingly satisfying artwork and moving my creative self forward, too. Ideas abound when I am unable to create them. Figures!
What will you make today?