Frustration Part 1: My Body
I've been feeling really frustrated with my body lately.
I don't want to just sit around, barely moving, accomplishing nothing, feeling bad physically and emotionally. So I get up. I clean. I do laundry. I bend and straighten and walk. I push myself to get done all the things I need to get done and want to get done and could have gotten done more quickly and efficiently before.
But I can't do it quickly anymore. I can't do it efficiently. Half of it I can't even do. I get through some and then I have to stop to rest. Mr. Amazing shakes his head. "Why are you doing this to yourself? You are doing too much," he says.
I know he is right but I don't want him to be right. I get back up. I push some more. I crash. I lay in bed the whole next day. And the next day after that. Five days later, I still haven't recovered. I'm miserable. I'm frustrated. I'm thinking, I can't even clean the house without ruining the rest of the week.
Life is now all about pacing myself and making decisions I shouldn't have to make. Picking and choosing which things are most important to get done. Which things are okay to drop. Which things can be passed on to my clones or Mr. Amazing.
Every day the clones say something about mom not having the energy to do such-and-such. Every day Mr. Amazing picks up a job I can't do and becomes more and more stressed out from all of the demands and needs of work and family and caregiving.
All I want to do is just live my life. I just want to get done what I want and need to get done. I want to be a contributor to the functionality of this house and take some of the pressure off Mr. Amazing. And I can't. Or I do and then pay for it in ways a healthy person cannot imagine.
I'm frustrated with this body not being able to keep up with all the things I want and need and could get done. I'm tired of asking for help, accepting help, needing help, on a daily basis.
It just starts to feel like all this inability is really just a personal failing. I know it isn't. But it feels that way.
I don't want to just sit around, barely moving, accomplishing nothing, feeling bad physically and emotionally. So I get up. I clean. I do laundry. I bend and straighten and walk. I push myself to get done all the things I need to get done and want to get done and could have gotten done more quickly and efficiently before.
But I can't do it quickly anymore. I can't do it efficiently. Half of it I can't even do. I get through some and then I have to stop to rest. Mr. Amazing shakes his head. "Why are you doing this to yourself? You are doing too much," he says.
I know he is right but I don't want him to be right. I get back up. I push some more. I crash. I lay in bed the whole next day. And the next day after that. Five days later, I still haven't recovered. I'm miserable. I'm frustrated. I'm thinking, I can't even clean the house without ruining the rest of the week.
Life is now all about pacing myself and making decisions I shouldn't have to make. Picking and choosing which things are most important to get done. Which things are okay to drop. Which things can be passed on to my clones or Mr. Amazing.
Every day the clones say something about mom not having the energy to do such-and-such. Every day Mr. Amazing picks up a job I can't do and becomes more and more stressed out from all of the demands and needs of work and family and caregiving.
All I want to do is just live my life. I just want to get done what I want and need to get done. I want to be a contributor to the functionality of this house and take some of the pressure off Mr. Amazing. And I can't. Or I do and then pay for it in ways a healthy person cannot imagine.
I'm frustrated with this body not being able to keep up with all the things I want and need and could get done. I'm tired of asking for help, accepting help, needing help, on a daily basis.
It just starts to feel like all this inability is really just a personal failing. I know it isn't. But it feels that way.
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