Small Steps

Hard times. But I am moving.

Today, I have a cold. Sneezing, coughing, battling to keep warm (or cool), headachey… brain too furry to do much. Plans put by the wayside as I return to bed.

But something shifts in me, as I sit and think. 

In recent times, my head has been almost suffocated by the thick fog of negative thoughts. But with recent medication changes, I’m starting to see clarity again. The fog is thinning. My lovely doctor is thrilled that my natural smile is returning.

I’m finding myself again. I walk around this house, where I’ve lived for ten years now. My home, with my wee family. Full of the stuff of our lives: physical things holding unique memories, but also games played on the stairs with kittens, pups rolling around on the rug, hugs and laughter in every room…

When that black fog (dog?) rolls in, my tactics are now taking effect. I light a candle for focus and brightness. I burn sweet incense to remind me of magic and ritual. I walk barefoot across the wooden floors, wrap myself in blankets I knitted, immerse myself in stories that engage…

I write random thoughts to share, for those who may feel as I do. To prove that I can still express myself, create, speak up – that my mind is my own. This is me. I’m still moving. It is possible.

The cold germs force rest. With every sneeze, badness is spat out and my head clears (briefly!). I trust that my body does its thing and evicts the toxic, as I am trying to do with the unhelpful thoughts. 

I reach out with my words… magic from the tips of my fingers, to reach you.

And I smile as I imagine you reading. 

Much love, my friends.

Small Accomplishment

I had such plans for today. Chores around the house, yes, but also my own work – I was even looking forward to my morning run.

All of which was effectively scuppered by a total lack of energy, combined with a brain which refused to focus on anything. Even the easiest novel.

I think this might have been a mild migraine. I get them occasionally, and do my best to manage, but …

Sometimes you have to ride the downward waves, of course. So I did as my body asked – and fell asleep. When awake, it was simple TV or dozing. I could do nothing.

By 4pm, this had become actively depressing. A wasted day. I felt bad for not giving my pups the playtime they’d been hoping for (fortunately brief stints of frisbee in the garden were sufficient, I’m glad to say). I had to do something… but what?

Finally, the frustration was too much. Laptop was grabbed, typing began. I anticipated a stream of utter rubbish.

Instead, I blogged – on my ‘main’ page, the original blog that started it all, ‘The Catbox‘. And I’m actually rather pleased with the result.

Writing is my joy. When the words flow, there’s no sensation like it. Inspiration strikes and, if you’re really lucky, begets more – and that’s something to ride, until you physically (and mentally) have to stop.

It’s early evening now and the day is so much brighter. My head feels clearer, I have a little more energy. The pups will be walked as dusk falls when Himself returns from work, and I’ll prepare food for a relaxing evening. On our terms, my little family.

No wasted day after all – because something was created and shared.

Ride the flows, my friends.

Appreciation

Very ill today, due to intolerances (and sneaky hidden nasties in yesterday’s food). Extreme dizziness, nausea, lack of concentration… now faded, thank goodness.

It may be surprising, but in recent years, illness or incapacitation has actually made me thankful (when I’ve stopped groaning or hiding under a blanket). It forces me to honour aspects of life that I might have taken for granted, by feeling the loss when they’re taken away.

Sometimes it seems that there are few greater joys than a really severe headache finally receding. When the world ceases to sway as I lift my head, or I’m able to focus again. With the severest migraines I’ve ever had, the moment when I can actually see at all, or sometimes even regain the power of coherent speech (a truly terrifying experience).

I know there are so many who are worse off than me – my complaints are comparatively tiny. But we all have our foibles, our needs and reactions, physical and otherwise to varying degrees. We try to get on regardless – or in spite of – because the alternative is to give up, which is no solution. Even if we pause to recuperate or take stock, we hold on to that intention to move again… eventually, once we’re able.

Tonight I was working again, gladly and with many smiles. The sunset as I drove home was beautiful, with the promise of rain imminent. I’m settling down now to rest, with my book and bed a safe haven.

I might whinge… but I’m still thankful to be moving.

To Sleep, Perchance

Sometimes, a day is lost to illness. You can feel as bad/guilty/frustrated as you like, but you’re just not able to do much, physically or mentally.

My bright spots today were very bright – the voices of friends over the internet, a beautiful warm afternoon walking puppies. But ultimately, I’ve got through today thanks to one thing:

20140401-195621.jpg

At a recent Handfasting, we were asked to call upon Morpheus, Lord of Dreams. Some may call him deity, others not.

But while sleep contains many mysteries, it/he also contains healing, allowing rest and ultimately, living. Morpheus may have stolen my afternoon, but I’m here and writing because of that.

Sleep isn’t a waste of time, not at all. Rest is necessary, and we dishonour both Morpheus and ourselves when we forget that.