I have an old slanguage term from my childhood days of shaking off disease. It's 'dishraggy'. As in, feeling like a limp, slightly greasy, overdue for a wash, dishrag.
It's a very floppy feeling. The effort to raise an arm is barely worth it. The greasiness resides in the soul, and can't be washed out with all the hot bubblebaths in the world.
So, in short, I am feeling 'better'. For limited definitions of 'better. I'm more mentally prepared to be functional, but I still lack the essential energy to be the whirlwind of activity that summarises the Martha Stewart types I despise.
In a near-constant low-batt state, I have found ways to cheat. And in cheating, I feel guilty for it. I should be doing everything at once. I should be multitasking. I should be keeping the house in a state that's super ready for catalogue photographers.
But then I look at a pile of debris and just cry. Because I know for a fact that if I tried to be like that, I'd probably hospitalise myself in the process. And I'm the one who's home all the time, and it's therefore my problem.
Except all my other problems kind'a weigh me down there.
Thank the Powers That Be for Steam Powered Giraffe and their latest album. The song, Only Human reminds me that I'm allowed to have flaws and just cope with the things that I'm capable of doing. That I should be taking the time to recharge. That it's perfectly okay for a major portion of my exhaustion levels to be because my muscles are twitching because asthma meds.
Next time I'm at the quacks, I should ask about alternative asthma therapies, because twitching is taking over my frelling life. And it still feels like I'm breathing through a thin straw.
But I have beautiful music to remind me that feeling awful is still okay, and it's just one step on a path to getting better. Just look - all these amazing people with talent oozing out of their pores have brain problems too. Which means I have a shot at being amazing myself. Dunno about the talent though.
Deep breaths. One step at a time. Let's do today before we fret about tomorrow. Worry about 'is' rather than 'might'.
I will get there. One laborious, plodding, dragging step at a time.
