Oh man. Yesterday was a tough one, and in the nature of a warts & all blog, I’ll tell you why.
My day started well; I got up, got dressed and cracked on with work. I cracked on with work more efficiently than the rest of this week, which felt good and virtuous (my halo will arrive any day now).
And then I stopped for lunch at just after 2. The plan was, have lunch, watch a couple of episodes of the Mindy Project, and then spend the afternoon reading one of my business development books. And also to go out for a puppy walk with my mum.
Did that happen? Did it bollocks. My good intentions were shot to hell once I sat down to eat. A tidal wave of fatigue hit me. My wrists, elbows, fingers, neck and knees started screaming.
I couldn’t work out what had triggered this sudden flare – had I got chilled and not realised? Was it the white rice (gasp, shock, horror) that I’d just eaten?
Nah. It was the first time I’d let myself take a proper break that day, so it was the first opportunity I’d had to think about what a stressful week it had been.
Therefore, energy sapping flare. Balls.
I thought, well, it’s ok to have the afternoon. I’ve worked a few looooong days this week, so I can claim a couple of hours back to rest this afternoon.
And the puppy walk? I didn’t go. But did I tell my mum that I was having a flare up and actually just couldn’t face going outside? No. I lied about some urgent project coming in so I wouldn’t have time.
And then I cried loads because I lied to my mum, which I absolutely did NOT need to do. The guilt was crushing. I’m sorry, Marmee.
My mum has fibromyalgia too. It’s not like she wouldn’t have completely understood that I just wanted to curl up under a blanket and hide from the world, that I just didn’t have the capacity to human that afternoon.
Why did I lie about it? I’m so shit at lying that I generally just don’t bother doing it. I have no poker face.
In all honesty, I didn’t want to be held accountable for my health that day. I’ve not been doing very well with my intermittent fasting, and I’ve not been particularly mindful about my carb substitutes.
I haven’t been out for a good walk with my mum and the dogs for at least two weeks. And I can really feel it. I am so embarassed that I’ve been getting out of breath just from climbing the stairs. The fact that the pollen count is sky high and my asthma is out of control is really neither here nor there.
I have clearly done this to myself, and I must suffer the consequences (says the bad voice in my head). I am a fat, gasping mouth breather who has put themself into this position. Also, my cervix is cross with me for taking it to a screening, so my attempt to cheer myself up with some sex resulted in me wincing and crying in the *sexiest* manner and telling my ever so patient boyfriend that I literally needed to back away slowly. Awesome.
This morning, the sun is shining. I had a reasonable night’s sleep (Sean will tell you that I hogged the whole bed. I dispute this. I have the lines from sleeping ON THE BEDFRAME to prove it).
I feel better today. I’m still a little achy, but I’m going to JenJen’s house for afternoon tea, and I am going to eat a metric fuck tonne of cake.
I had a lovely LinkedIn message from my Swag Buddy partner in crime.
I have delicious coffee.
I’ve fed my fur babies their traditional Saturday peanut.
Sean bought me some tulips yesterday to cheer me up, and I’m enjoying them today.
I’m trying not to feel guilty about making shit up yesterday to get out of something that would ultimately be good for me. I know why I lied; chronic illnesses are HARD. I don’t want fibromyalgia, depression, polycystic ovaries or asthma to define me. I don’t WANT them to rule my life and be at the root of everything I do.
I don’t want to make myself and my life smaller because of something that I can do fuck all about. And I don’t want to be the person who says no to things because I have all of the above chronic illnesses.
But pretending that none of the above are reasons to say no to something is NOT A GOOD IDEA. I know that I don’t want to be the person who no longer gets invited to things because they always cancel eventually. But I know my people better than that. I know that they won’t forget me just because I couldn’t make that hang out. I know that my mum isn’t going to stop talking to me because, at the time, I didn’t want to go for a walk.
I’m not going to cancel on everything. But I need to be ok with saying no occasionally. And I need to be ok with telling people WHY I’m saying no.
And I need to learn how to cope with that hurdle the same way I cope with everything else: one day at a time.