Acceptance isn't fatalism. I think.
Jun. 18th, 2023 11:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
resoluteMy pain isn't better today.
I'm at the point where doing anything is measured against the "is this task worth crying over" scale. Which isn't to say that crying happens EVERY time, merely that it is a distinct involuntary possibility.
So, for instance, bathing and clean clothes, brushing my teeth, taking meds, getting tea, taking care of animals, being basically decent and respectful to people, and preventing the garden from dying are all worth it. I may or may not start leaking feelings out of my eyeballs, but I will do these anyway.
In the "eh, maybe" category are preparing food, doing more garden work, keeping the house tidy, and seeing friends. You get the idea.
(NB: everyone's personal effort-reward scales are balanced differently, you do you.)
What is in a weird category is exercise. See, resting doesn't improve my pain.
It does in the short term, absolutely! If I have been standing too long, sitting helps. If I have been sitting too long, standing helps. Changing the positioning and tensioning in my body does provide brief respite.
But it's *brief*.
So, as long as nothing makes me feel better, I might as well do the things that will improve my body in the LONG term, right?
Right.
When I am having awful pain days, I rest for maybe one day, then am active the next two. Or some other combination. It's supposed to rain today, so instead of being active watering the garden and hauling the damn hose around I did light tai chi and some calisthenics for about a half hour.
Everything still hurts. My sciatica is an imp from hell and we are not even going to discuss the state of my feet. But in a few weeks, after some steroid shots and maybe a nerve ablation, I WILL be in less pain. And when that happens I will be appreciative of my efforts today.
This feels like acceptance, to me. This feels like acknowledging the world as it is -- i.e., that I have a degenerative autoimmune disorder that may or may not eventually kill me but it WILL make me suffer untold agonies along the way -- without being fatalistic about it. Yes, everything is awful. So? What does that have to do with me?
Yes, everything is awful. The thing I can control is *all the stuff I can control.* I can take more or less pain medication. I can talk to people or not. I can make and keep medical appointments or not. I control when and what I eat, I control whether or not I am clean, I control whether I like my clothes or not.
The fact that there is a ton of shit outside of my control does not leave me powerless, helpless, or worthless.
So, yes, now my feet are a mess of pain. But I am glad I chose to get up and do tai chi. Not because it makes me lose weight, or makes me virtuous, or makes me feel better or feel worse, I do not do it because it is expected of me or not expected of me. I am glad because I CHOSE IT.
I intend to value all the choices I can make about and for and with my body, for as long as I have choices left.
If you are reading this, you are still alive. You have choices.
Dye your hair. Shave it. Get a piercing. Get a tattoo. Learn to paint. Learn to paint with your toes. Go march in a protest. Drive your power wheelchair to around a Pride festival. Wear sunscreen. Don't wear sunscreen, I'm not the boss of you. Go thrifting and get a new look. Stock up on your favorite shirt and never go shopping again. Get a cat. Get a bearded dragon.
It's your body and your life. You don't have all the choices available to you that you would prefer.
Alright. So? No-one does.
My life is still mine, and this fucked-up meatsack is the only option I have with which to live it.
Onwards and upwards.
I'm at the point where doing anything is measured against the "is this task worth crying over" scale. Which isn't to say that crying happens EVERY time, merely that it is a distinct involuntary possibility.
So, for instance, bathing and clean clothes, brushing my teeth, taking meds, getting tea, taking care of animals, being basically decent and respectful to people, and preventing the garden from dying are all worth it. I may or may not start leaking feelings out of my eyeballs, but I will do these anyway.
In the "eh, maybe" category are preparing food, doing more garden work, keeping the house tidy, and seeing friends. You get the idea.
(NB: everyone's personal effort-reward scales are balanced differently, you do you.)
What is in a weird category is exercise. See, resting doesn't improve my pain.
It does in the short term, absolutely! If I have been standing too long, sitting helps. If I have been sitting too long, standing helps. Changing the positioning and tensioning in my body does provide brief respite.
But it's *brief*.
So, as long as nothing makes me feel better, I might as well do the things that will improve my body in the LONG term, right?
Right.
When I am having awful pain days, I rest for maybe one day, then am active the next two. Or some other combination. It's supposed to rain today, so instead of being active watering the garden and hauling the damn hose around I did light tai chi and some calisthenics for about a half hour.
Everything still hurts. My sciatica is an imp from hell and we are not even going to discuss the state of my feet. But in a few weeks, after some steroid shots and maybe a nerve ablation, I WILL be in less pain. And when that happens I will be appreciative of my efforts today.
This feels like acceptance, to me. This feels like acknowledging the world as it is -- i.e., that I have a degenerative autoimmune disorder that may or may not eventually kill me but it WILL make me suffer untold agonies along the way -- without being fatalistic about it. Yes, everything is awful. So? What does that have to do with me?
Yes, everything is awful. The thing I can control is *all the stuff I can control.* I can take more or less pain medication. I can talk to people or not. I can make and keep medical appointments or not. I control when and what I eat, I control whether or not I am clean, I control whether I like my clothes or not.
The fact that there is a ton of shit outside of my control does not leave me powerless, helpless, or worthless.
So, yes, now my feet are a mess of pain. But I am glad I chose to get up and do tai chi. Not because it makes me lose weight, or makes me virtuous, or makes me feel better or feel worse, I do not do it because it is expected of me or not expected of me. I am glad because I CHOSE IT.
I intend to value all the choices I can make about and for and with my body, for as long as I have choices left.
If you are reading this, you are still alive. You have choices.
Dye your hair. Shave it. Get a piercing. Get a tattoo. Learn to paint. Learn to paint with your toes. Go march in a protest. Drive your power wheelchair to around a Pride festival. Wear sunscreen. Don't wear sunscreen, I'm not the boss of you. Go thrifting and get a new look. Stock up on your favorite shirt and never go shopping again. Get a cat. Get a bearded dragon.
It's your body and your life. You don't have all the choices available to you that you would prefer.
Alright. So? No-one does.
My life is still mine, and this fucked-up meatsack is the only option I have with which to live it.
Onwards and upwards.
no subject
Date: 2023-06-19 02:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-06-21 10:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-06-22 10:55 pm (UTC)Hear, hear!