Well if I didn't push myself into a big fat flare last week then I don't know what. It all started with me somehow convincing myself managing Fibro was as easy as, well, mind over matter. The voice of Leah past told me in a very firm tone if I just pushed ahead and ignored the pain I would be fine. The progress of order and accomplishment would provide a much needed analgesic for any repercussions I would feel. Wherever she came up with this idea I just don't know. But on Monday I cleaned my entire house, minus my office of course, top to bottom. Both bathrooms, dusting, organizing, fluffing pillows, shaking out rugs and vacuuming. I even swept the patio and moved around some very large potted plants. At the end of the day I hurt. But I was determined to stick to my new schedule! So Tuesday I got up and ran, then jumped in the shower and high-tailed it over to the coffee shop around the corner to exist among the land of the living while I wrote. Well the thoughts and ideas were flowing and write I did. I was even up until 5am laying down another chapter for my book. Wednesday there was one word for the day, TAXES. Stayed up until 5am again making sure all my records were in order, i's dotted and t's crossed. Thursday was tax day and I flew out of our afternoon appointment with the tax lady like my pants were on fire because I had not written my blog yet.
Then began my four day weekend with my husband. It was great to spend time with him but man is he healthy and man does he move fast! We were up and out the door or engaged in some activity pretty much non-stop. Now my husband is quite sympathetic to the restrictions my health places on my life but is also thrilled I am on the upswing health wise. And I did little to put the breaks on his enthusiasm because I am excited too. I want to live! Lord knows I have fought hard enough for it. But I already spent my wad on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. And those two nights of 5am tic-tac-toe totally disrupted my sleep patterns. I couldn't fall asleep and when I finally did was not getting deep sleep, waking up each morning progressively more exhausted. Then throw Easter Sunday into the mix, and more processed foods in one day than I eat in a month and I woke up Monday morning crushed under a 7,000 lb. truck. So I ate cake for breakfast and played this stupid bubble shooting game on my cell phone all day as I laid in bed, wishing I could sleep. Then thank God finally last night I slept.
Will I ever learn? I woke up this morning deciding to get back on that magical schedule of productivity which holds no forgiveness for the fluctuating symptoms of my chronic illness. I forced myself to run and hurt pretty damn bad the whole way. Came home and did yoga, really trying to convince myself I was just stiff from not exercising. But alas, one good night of sleep did not replenish my sleep deficiency at all and I still feel like crap. There is no way I am cleaning my house or going to the coffee shop today. But the thought of wasting another day when there is so much to get done makes me nuts. So I am staggering around the house, somehow more cake finding it's way to my plate, trying to convince Yorkie the best thing I could do is give him a haircut. He really needs one, but I don't think he agrees with me. Every time I say this he walks out of the room with his tail between his legs. Yup, Yorkie-cut it is. I mean a girls gotta get something done...
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