Quiet recovery from a push

Blog entry posted by Dainty, Sep 22, 2017.

Last week was hell.

It's the hardest I have pushed myself since my years of being mostly bedridden. That was the case even before the viral bug with its 101 degree fever, or the next day's job transforming from 2 hours to 6. It was the case even aside from the PR stuff. It just sucked, period.

But I got through it. And today, my 5th day of resting, I'm about halfway to baseline.

I want to describe the good stuff around here, too. Sometimes I forget how much of it there is in my life these days. Today I made homemade ketchup, for example. It's the only kind I can eat, since I can't have onion or garlic. I've tweaked the recipe until it's so delicious we'll eat through an 8 oz bottle in less than two weeks. Today for the first time I made a gigantic batch, bottling them up in five condiment bottles. We should have ketchup for a couple months, I hope.

And yeah, it wiped me out. I needed to lay down for a few hours afterwards. But I did it - including cleaning up afterwards and washing all dishes by hand - without compromising my journey of recovery from last week.

My abdomen was locked up again from pushing my body. That took about three days to unlock. With the release, came the body-wide pain again that kept me awake. I was *this* close to taking pain meds, but opted instead for the meditation practice of leaning into the pain.

I woke feeling refreshed, as if I had slept deeper than normal. My partner, though, tells a different story. He says I woke him multiple times throughout the night, like 4-5 times, saying I had had a nightmare and diving for his arms. This isn't quite normal for me.

He was grinning when he told me, though. He likes how cuddly I become when I'm sick or have nightmares. I tease the shit out of him for it.

We had burgers for dinner tonight. We use regular bread instead of buns because it's cheaper. We have our routine down - he cooks the patties, I toast the bread. I slice tomatoes and prep lettuce, and grab the condiments. He sets the table. We scoot close together to eat, shoulders and hips touching. We playfully nudge each other throughout as we watch one of our favorite shows together.

We tackle dishes together afterwards.

And as we lay in each others' arms tonight, somehow it felt like things were going to be alright. No, he still doesn't have a job. It means the only money coming in is what I can manage to bring in. No, I would not be able to pay the bills alone. The weather has turned cold, and neither of us wants to be on the streets again.

It's like watching a hurricane coming at you from afar. And trusting that somehow, the life you've constructed will withstand it.
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Dainty

About the Author

Dainty became ill as a teenager and spent 7 years mostly bedridden from ME/CFS, life-threatening MCS reactions, extreme food allergies/sensitivities, cognitive impairment, fibromyalgia, episodes of temporary paralysis and various unexplained emergencies. The past 5 years she has experienced profound improvement from various treatment approaches. With homelessness and PTSD presenting as significant obstacles, she continues to pursue healing full time and find incorrigible opportunities to enjoy life.