The Little Things

            It’s 10:13 a.m. on 10-13, but that is not what I want to write about. 

            This week I have had a refresher course in the same lesson I’ve been reviewing for fifteen years:  little things add up.

            It is the convergence of the negligible that creates the obvious.  (Boy, does that sound fancy!)  Over the past few weeks I spent several hours taking notes by hand, ignoring the pain signals in my right arm.  I went for a delightful long walk, ignoring the muscle strain in my leg.  I ate too much junk food.  I skipped some naps.  And then the fall weather with its fluctuating barometric pressure blew in, and with it came a really bad fibro flare.

            My leisurely pace slowed to a stop.  The daily symptoms, which usually retreat to the background of my life, raged to the forefront:  unbelievable exhaustion and pain that seemed to squeeze out of every cell. 

Since retiring three years ago, I have spent my share of fruitless time during the “good days” feeling guilty about how little I actually do.  (My version of “busy” is having one outside activity scheduled each day.)  I’ve chosen those activities carefully: they are things I love that energize instead of drain.  And that slower pace has resulted in many more “feeling good” days than “feeling bad” days.  Until this week, that is.

            Which leads me to the second part of the lesson:  some things are beyond my control.  Perhaps that is the hardest and most important lesson of any chronic condition.  Yes, I can usually manage my symptoms, but sometimes a storm blows in that blows me over.  It sure isn’t convenient.  I sure don’t like it.  But it reminds me on Whom I depend.  It reminds me to never take for granted all the “feeling good” days I have. 

            Thus, I am not going to feel guilty about lying down for a little rest before lunch to prepare myself for my afternoon nap.