I wonder how many times I am going to write the same content in this blog before I finally get it.
I’m knocked down again, because I was probably trying to do too much.
We had dinner with friends last week. The couple asked me, “So how are you feeling?” I answered, “Well, I was doing great until I sat on the bleachers in the cold at the football game for three hours.” That was nine days ago. Yes, it can be something that little.
I went on to explain the frustration I have with this because I used to be able to do so much. So much. But, as I’ve written so many times in this blog — that was then, this is now.
I knew I was in trouble last weekend when I had difficulty moving around the day after the football game. We went to church then came home and rested. I fussed and whined for a bit, then my husband suggested we go for a walk. Movement always helps. After we walked, we came home to make it an early night.
I didn’t adjust my schedule last week to allow myself time to recover, after all, I teach two hours three days a week and see a few students outside of that. What would I need to pare down? I am already pared way down. So, I was moving a little slowly, big deal. Surely I could still teach and see a few students.
Well, a few students turned into ten hours of tutoring. Add that to six hours in the classroom and five to six hours of prep and I still had a work week that was fewer than twenty-five hours. However, we also went to dinner and a play on Thursday night. Then, we drove to a neighboring town on Saturday for a wedding. Yesterday we spent the morning at church. Finally, I uncharacteristically agreed to meet two students on Sunday evening.
And this morning? Well, I pried myself out of bed at 8:00am to take my meds and send messages to my doctors to see what I can do about the fact that I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. My body aches– neck, hips, knees, back. My eyes are the worst — aching, irritated, sensitive to light. And fatigue? Yeah. I’ve made a promise to myself that I will shower at 11 this morning so that I am on time for my noon class. I will probably force myself to stay dressed long enough to drive out and refill my medication at the pharmacy, otherwise I won’t have pain meds tomorrow morning. And, I will likely make an agreement with myself that I am only allowed to watch television and crochet if I do twenty minutes of Pilates first.
And, I know I’ve got to do some preparing because I have four students tomorrow — one who is new. Wednesday I teach and then I will see four more students. And even that, folks, is sounding like a lot right now.
It sounds like a lot to a girl who used to arrive at school before 7am, prepare for students or attend meetings until 8, teach, observe other teachers, mentor students, run with the cross country team, and still go home to make dinner, do laundry, and attend events with the family.
That was then, this is now.
I have to remind myself of what I wrote just a few days ago. This opportunity to slow down has afforded me the time to reflect and find meaning in the ways that I have lived my life for the past forty-nine years. This new pace, this pace of now, is a blessing and an opportunity.
But today I don’t like it. At all.
Evening, morning and noon I cry out in distress, and he hears my voice.