Have you been asked this before?
What do you say?
My answer has always been (and likely will always remain), “Because I have to.”
I have to manage an entire household complete with chores, duties, tasks and the general accounting of not only my business, but of the household finances as well. In addition to the daily maintenance of the husband and the gingerBrynns. In addition to the daycare kidlets (which I’ve had to downsize to the two sisters before/after school care). In addition to planning for any upcoming events. In addition to having to change the sheets on the bed that are sitting on the dryer downstairs because I’ve forgotten them the last three times I was down there.
Coupled with this, is trying to find a balance between what needs to be done versus what MUST be done.
Unfortunately, the chaos of my reality doesn’t quite permit the acquisition of said balance.
(remember my post on the “The Economics of Chronic Illness”? http://longship.ca/lupusinterrupted/?p=285 )
If I do something new, creative, totally bat-shit crazy…it comes with a price.
For example, this morning I had to attend to getting fresh groceries. I have about 55 thank you cards still to address (at least they’re written!) and mail out. Which one wins?
Thus, when I find the time to do the thank you notes, what is it’s cost? Being able to research the next steps in my medical care? Being able to sit? Being able to tend to learning something new?!?!?
“First world problems, right?”
Maybe that’s what started this funk of mine.
Someone had the gall to infer to me a couple of days ago that all we “chronically afflicted”, while genuinely trying to make a life for ourselves, are really just enduring the “first world problems” of our Westernized society.
Dude. Some of us are fucking dying. I’m pretty sure that’s as relative to third world problems as you’re ever gonna get. Yes, I have food and medicine (said medications many cannot afford, or, by consumption, are simply prolonging the inevitable).
There are people in the poorest countries in the world who are older than I’ve ever been projected to be…*tick tock*…
I think I’m damn well entitled to wish/want/need to NOT carry the weight of the world each and every day.
So, I’ve been snarky. Ran into a “friend” of mine today who just never could muster the courtesy of ever giving a shit about anything of mine…my trials and tribulations OR my success and accomplishments of which, frankly exceed anything *I* ever thought I could do…I freakin’ rock. Just sayin’.
“Hey. How’s it goin’?”
“Still dying, and you?”
[enter crickets, stage left. *but not jumping and/or flying crickets…’cuz they really wig me out*]
That really wasn’t very nice of me.
I really didn’t giveth a shiteth.
I am truly trying to make a difference in my life. MY life. For ME. Personally.
Because I don’t have enough laundry piling up or school forms to inconveniently forget about or vacuum the upstairs or OH! I don’t know…prepare for working 10 hour days come the summer time when school’s out.
I’ve been checking out sun/shade in my backyard. Started the whole Google process…even got myself a couple of books. I figured I kept my kids growing well all these years (all five of ’em, dontcha know)…might as well give’r a go.
I seek knowledge.
I seek understanding.
I seek the ability to create something that can directly affect my natural state of being…for the better.
Make my own salves.
Make my own oils and tinctures.
Make my own hope.
Anyhoooooooo….going out of the house (Go, Go Anxiety Girl!!) this Wednesday to attend an open discussion on herbs. I don’t have the foggiest idea of what to do and/or say other than, “Help?” and I know I will receive the best. I know the people going. This makes me all warm and squishy with happy thoughts.
I’ve got a mission…
…I am going to single handedly change everything about the care of “Me.”
Go big, or go home.