I kind of hate the days of no thinking. I don’t beat myself
up about them anymore, but I miss all the things I could have done with a
better day. At the same time, I realize that missing what could have been is a
waste of time.
There is a reason I don’t do the things Susan wants to do. For
so long I did everything in spite of the MS, and now I can do only what the MS
permits. I have run the fences, tested the limits, and I pretty well know when
I’m doing more than I should. It still stings that ironing is too much, sorting laundry is too much, and cooking is too much. It is nice, though, to know when I’m deliberately
coloring outside the lines, so to speak, instead of being blindsided by the
results of over-doing it. It is also nice to choose to do it, instead of all
the years that I did it because there was no other choice.
And I don’t have to stand in self-condemnation for not doing
more, or not doing better. All the years I compared myself to others, not
knowing that I had a disease that knocked me out of the “normal” range. I
always thought that old adage “don’t compare yourself to others” was something
that was said to “losers” (me) so they (I) wouldn’t beat themselves (myself) up
for their (my) failings. Now I truly understand that it is unjust, because I’m not
like other people. I’m at the edge of the bell curve, and that isn’t always a
bad place to be - but more on that later.
It is truly a gift that I don't have to force myself to perform, most days. That fact has made self-acceptance possible. Acceptance has made it easier to ride out these days, and to laugh at myself. There is a lot of laughter in my house, and I'm the cause of most of it. Why can I laugh? Because I know this is all temporary. Yes, it might continue for another thirty years, but that is still quite short in the scheme of things. And I can laugh because I am loved by a mighty God and by wonderful people. It's all good.
