Save your spoons for the important stuff.
That was a reminder from my dearheart Julie today. She told me that a month ago and it was something that completely slipped my mind.
Save your spoons.
Bide my time. Sit this out until it all blows over, or act on my increasing madness and do something stupid that sets my recovery back about a month.
I’ve been attempting the latter. Its been hard, way hard. While the energy is up, the body is still at about DEFCON 3. Any physical exertion past a certain point and I am pretty much guaranteed no sleep and anxiety through the night and the next day. If I sit on my ass, however, this does not happen.
It is absolutely killing me to sit on my ass. Sitting on my ass is not a mode that I have anymore. I thought I was doing ok with some light cycling or enjoying our newly purchased kayaks out on the lake, but even those activities have become too much.
It is killing me and yet I gotta do what I gotta do. Save my spoons.
I got a raise at work this week after only 5 months of employment. I guess I’m doing something right there. D wanted to take me out to dinner to celebrate, but I am like, no. I have no desire to get gussied up and appear in a formal environment right now. It is one of the many, many internal issues I am dealing with.
Instead, we gathered up the outdoor gear and he cooked me dinner at the park where we’ve been launching the kayaks. There was steak and potatoes and asparagus and cannoli and a lot of sitting and just be-ing. The waves have been rather high lately, but we’ve been digging it like that. D flew solo today. D is probably going to have to fly solo for a while.
“You know, we can get ice cream, too,” D said. “I checked with the Rule Maker.”
Save your spoons.