I Am Taking My Life Back

Today finds me on the other side of my post-holiday, post-sick flare and I am amazed at how much has gotten away from me! I have been indulging Fibromyalgia, buying my own excuses that keep me unproductive and lazy. Making mental agreements with myself that justify this behavior. Whining and complaining in my head that I hurt so therefore I could not possibly be expected to keep up a routine.  Bargaining with myself to excuse my lackadaisical drive and refusal to exercise discipline in doing all the things that are required to make my life successful. Today it all came swirling down around me and I have jumped on top of it and am screaming ENOUGH! Enough with the excuses, the mental crutch I have allowed my physical well being to become. Enough handing over my life, my dreams, my goals and aspirations. Yeah I may still hurt and feel like crap a fair amount of the time but I don't care...I am taking my life back!

I am inherently rebellious and a night owl. These two factors are creating quite a conflict with the smooth, successful and on the ball image my mind wants me to become. I stay up late, sleep in late, have not been doing yoga and because of that it now hurts too much to walk the dogs. I am back to relying on pills to manage my pain instead of my lifestyle. I am a big fleshy ball of flab and jiggle yet still stuffing my face like I am entitled, all because I don't feel well. I am spiraling down the rabbit hole of regression and indulgence. I have been here before and have no desire to go back. So in order to not fall any deeper I am sticking out my arms and legs, catching them on the sides of this hole I am being sucked down, and halting this before I slide any deeper. I am stronger than Fibromyalgia, I am stronger than pain! I am on the cusp of having a very successful and productive life where I make a difference in the world and am not going to allow excuses, bad habits or whoa is me to halt it any longer. I have been sitting here for the last few weeks feeling disorganized, unproductive and lost. Not knowing where to go next, how to proceed. 

Well I am laying that down right now and re-claiming the goodness my life is meant to become! But without my participation, my commitment and hard work, it is never going to happen. So instead of buying my own reasoning that worms me out of the routine I need to be productive, I am setting certain parameters for my day that are non-negotiable. A collective list of actions that I need to achieve in order to run my life, be a good wife and puppy-mommy and march this Crusade into existence. I know what they are, I know what is required of me, and I am up for the challenge. It is just going to take a lot more self-discipline than I have been displaying these last few weeks! Finding the balance of motivation and self-forgiveness is a never-ending journey, especially for the chronically ill. The middle ground of compassion and discipline that fosters health and healing with progress and productivity is where I have set my sights. I am not ignoring Fibromyalgia, but I am not going to indulge her either. For Fibromyalgia is something I have, it is not who I am.

Thanks for joining,
Leah

P.S. Please "Follow" us on Networked Blogs on Facebook! Thank you! 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Back In The Saddle

Image
Well I got back on the horse. What else am I going to do? Take a long walk off a short pier or go play in traffic? So here I sit ready to try again. Raw, insecure and uncertain, but here I am. As I sort through the disillusionment in my mind I realize many of the sanity-saving tools I employed along the way got dropped in the dust a while back. I fell into my old behavior patterns. I allowed negativity and demands to infiltrate my sense of responsibility to myself. It's a big job, to regain my lost ground. I can do it, though. Not all at once, perfectly or on the first try, but it can be done. Of course this requires a significant amount of isolation and reflection. Accepting some will grumble over the selfish action of me taking care of me. Realizing that is not my problem. In fact, expecting myself to get a handle on my issues and then resume a level of interdependent living is exactly why I wound up back here in the first place.  I have finally accepted I cannot go back.
Read more

The Greatest Pretender

Image
About this time last year something profound happened to me. While the event itself wasn't earth-shattering, my reaction to it pretty much defined how I related to the world at large for the next nine months. One afternoon I was standing in the kitchen when my husband, who after over a decade of our social life being ruled by my sickness, informed me he was sick and tired of flaking out at the last minute. He demanded, then and there, that I either commit to or cancel lunch plans with friends two weeks out. I stood there with my mouth agape clueless as to what to say. We both knew I was rapidly relapsing into an illness that didn't give me the consideration of two day's notice, let alone two weeks. But we also knew life wasn't only about me... It didn't matter that his frustration was justified, or that I was spending half of the week too sick to function, or that two mature adults should've been able to resolve this rather superficial matter with a healthy dose
Read more

Waiting On the World to Care

Image
This blog has sat silent for many moons. For eight full ones, more or less, I've been imprisoned in an exile of my own creation. Initially I was so angry about my health relapse I didn't know what to say, other than to hurl epic amounts of fury at my keyboard. I had no solutions, no answers, and nothing positive to contribute. So instead of spewing hate all over the permanent cloud of internet technology, I donned the hair shirt of self-flagellation and turned that anger inward. It's been a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad eight months. As I got sicker and sicker, I got madder and madder. The angrier I became, the more I sequestered myself. I refused to talk about my problems or how I felt. It seemed pointless, like it didn't matter. Nobody could do anything about it or begin to comprehend my reality. There was just me, an isolated island of misery, who wanted to do anything but talk about being an isolated island of misery. But nobody understood that either. I'
Read more