This weekend I was given an excellent opportunity. A chance to practice what I oh so loudly preach. An occasion to exercise carefully mandated conditions I know full well many people with Fibromyalgia must follow to maintain some semblance of health and sanity. Myself definitely included. The delicious joy of turning what is usually stressful on top of stressful, family visiting from out of town during the holidays, was mine to discover as I went about it in a whole new health-supporting way. The plan was to place emphasis on the people, the visit. But instead I flipped myself inside, outside and upside down to clean my stupid house, decorate my darn tree and hang the bloody stockings near the chimney with care. By the time my family arrived I barely said hello as I flew past them at top speed, racing on the roller-blades of a colossal flare into a thick brick wall.
I winced at the error of my ways, realizing I had done exactly what I knew full well was going to result in pain and anguish. But I was powerless to stop myself. Pre-fibro Leah marched in and took charge of the situation, running around barking orders at my husband and shoving laundry into the dryer while Yorkie & Porkie looked at crazy ol' mom yet one more time. She blocked me out when I tried to stop her. She told me I was settling for a life of mediocrity. She reminded me how much pride I take in my home and how sharing that with others made me happy, but only if it was "shiny like a new penny" clean. So she ignored me and proceeded full speed ahead. Of course once the pain, stiffness and exhaustion came she was the first one out the door, leaving me bewildered and confused as to how I got so completely off track.
Here I sit. In bed. The guests are gone. I hurt and am mad at me. I was in pain and grouchy when they were here and did not have nearly as good of a time as I would have if I did not push myself to Amethyst preparing for their arrival. I am embarrassed. I knew better, know better, but still reverted to old behavior. But most of all I am humbled. In realizing how far I have come, and not come. Recognizing the thought process, intense rational, that caused old me to override new me and completely and totally throw myself under the bus in blatant disrespect. Yes I have learned. And I still have a lot of work to do in accepting the level of life I live now, my adapted life. Accepting it and embracing it. Oh I have a long way to go. The feeling of being struck repetitively across my back with a 2x4 is a constant throbbing reminder of my opportunity to forgive myself and do better next time. Really, that is all I can do.
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