At the end of some days, I think about what is in store for the next day. I plan. I think, ooh, I have no meetings tomorrow, so I could go over to that lovely sunshiney cafe and have a tasty coffee. I could bring my pens and do some drawing. I could bring a book and read, or my magazine. I could bring my sketchbook and do some journalling - actions I've been doing, accomplishments I've made.
The next morning I wake up with brain fog, and I can barely respond to my friends' texts. I realise that I can probably only do one of those things in the cafe. I empty out my bag of pens. After breakfast I still feel half asleep, so I sleep. I wake up in the early afternoon, and feel out, am I well enough to go out today at all?
My head is heavy with sleep. Coffee sometimes makes a bit of a difference. My throat, as normal for mornings, is sore. It's a sign I need to rest.
Sometimes I get out and go anyway. I ignore the heaviness and I take myself one step at a time. I normally have to have a sit down after the stress of deciding what to wear and getting dressed. Sometimes I laugh at myself at how such a little thing has become ridiculous in how difficult it is for me.
I zone out into mind-blankness. My body wants to go! My body wants movement, and joy. My head wants sleep. I manage the internal conflict like a mother of children. I judge which is the greater need. I try to give them both what they want. Movement now, just a little, and rest later. If it ever gets too much, I can go home.
Once I get out the door, I congratulate myself. Well done for leaving the house! Oh it's going to be a lovely day.
I plod down the street and worry that my muscles are getting weaker from all this rest, but that's just anxiousness - I'm fine, really. I'm delicate: my vision is a bit like a handheld camera in a documentary film; each step is a wobble. I hadn't realised how our brains just smooth out vision as we move around.
I struggle with deciding - where shall I go for coffee? The sunshiney cafe is a bus ride away, which would be more energy. I could just go to another one right by my house. I'm so lucky to have this all right by my house.
I used to consider, which part of London shall I explore today? I'd be on a never ending coffee trail around London. It was so much fun. I miss all those wonderful places, and the thrill of the new. Somehow, familiarity is helpful to my recovery. I'm guessing it's because there's less new information to process, so I can have more room for whatever needs doing now.
Have I been cursed? I'm being separated from what I love: adventures, friends, work. Have I done something so bad as to deserve this?
Some days I can stay in the cafe for a few hours and get life admin done. Sometimes I can barely read a paragraph in the newspaper, and I go home pretty quickly. I get home and rest. Again.
Setting up hopes for tomorrow
Blog entry posted by lior, Jul 1, 2017.