And...There She Goes Again

Let me tell you about my weekend.

I was gloriously productive. I cleaned and vacuumed and folded and organized and put away.

I took a walk. (I haven't done that in months!)

I worked on both my novel and my nonfiction POW book.

I didn't take any naps.

I was in a fantastic mood and loved life.

Then Monday morning hit.

Hmm, I thought. Not feeling the best...

But I went to work anyway because that's what I do. I'm a tough old bird (most of the time), but I do try and listen to my body so that "tough old bird" doesn't turn into "weeping female that ends up in the hospital ER" like last time.

So, listening to my body, I only worked half a day, then went home and slept all afternoon. I woke up feeling a little better.


And...There She Goes Again, Folks!

Then this morning hit.

Oh my gosh. If I could get away with a head transplant, I'd do it. Everything hurts from the neck up. Even my gums! This must be the rheumatoid arthritis flaring up. I'm tired and achy with a sore throat and sore ears and a really, really bad headache.

But I'm at the day job because while I'd much rather be at home, I think in this particular instance, working through it is the best way to deal with it.

This all goes to show, however, the cycle of my life. This latest stretch of feeling good (after finally getting over the mono) lasted about two weeks. And this last weekend? Awesome. I felt so productive and capable and, well, not like a person who is chronically ill.

These days only last so long, however, before the chronic illness returns and whips my feet out from underneath me.

So yes. There I go again...feeling like the pits.

Acceptance Brings Release....

But I refuse to let it get me down. I still smile when I think of all that I accomplished last weekend. I still look forward to the next time I can have a similar experience even though I have no idea when that will happen. I am finally at that place, though, where I can accept it.

I accept that I have a chronic illness.

I accept that it will leave me debilitated more often than not.

And I accept that I will keep going despite those limitations.

...And Writing Brings Fulfillment

I thank God for my writing. It is what sustains me through these periods. Yes, sometimes I can't write because I don't have the energy or I am physically (and mentally) unable to. But just thinking about my writing lodges a ray of joy in my heart that nothing can take from me.

I can write about my struggles or choose to immerse myself in my characters' world - it doesn't matter. Both bring me fulfillment.

Contrary to popular belief, laughter is not the best medicine there is.

For me, it's writing - and it is far more effective than any pill.