My Small Life

Choosing to live my life graciously seems to escape my grasp. Each time I feel it at my fingertips, when a few days at a time occur where I believe I’ve established stability at a livable level, I’m optimistic that I can “make this life work and like it.” Then, I wake up only one or two mornings later, typically, conquered by pain and other symptoms.

And life passes by. It used to be fun to be me even six or seven years ago. I miss interacting with and helping a variety of people, My purpose in life was (is) to weave love and compassion into the fabric of life wherever I was and whomever I met. Anxious, depressed, and struggling to carry on, my purpose carried me through the worse, until it didn’t. It’s difficult to fulfill it in present circumstances.

Let it all go – meals out, live music, staying out until 11 or 12, or going out to brunch at our favorite diner, a “5 star dive bar.” Unable to go up and down stairs reliably in my split-level home, my husband has asked me not to use them to do the laundry in the basement. Walking the dog regularly for nearly 20 years got canceled. Hanging out with friends, grocery shopping, gardening – all out of reach. ‘Driving ended when I became overwhelmed by all the stimuli in traffic and had a couple of close calls, one involving a pedestrian.

What is left? My beautiful, but small, room is decorated lovingly to infuse my world with joy and my wonderful little rescue dog brings a smile to my face no matter how low I am. Each evening I promise myself that, in the morning, I will do stretches, ride my stationary recumbent bike, get into the new camera I got for my birthday in October, and eat regularly. The reality in the middle of the night and next morning has to be dealt with regardless of any plans or commitments I’ve made.

The new me is needy, annoying, disappointing and disappointed with a sprinkle of humor. This isn’t anywhere near the life I imagined for myself at this age. For some reason, when I pictured myself retired, I’d be sitting at a patio bar near water, drink with umbrella in hand. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll make that happen at least once, but I will pay for it with a flare up of pain and other symptoms. That’s just a fact.

I am grateful for a warm home, comfortable bed, a bathroom en suite, infrequent lunches out, sisters, close friends, a beautiful view out my bedroom window, legal marijuana, disability recognition, and dark chocolate. Focus on these things, be present, and let this be enough, repeat.