Finished the Temple Grandin book this morning. Very good reading, and I learned so much about animals and their behaviour patterns, what makes them tick, etc. I love learning new things.
I went to the library web site and put that Anthropologist on Mars book on hold, along with Omnivore's Delimma and some stuff on Russian history.
I decided to do some house cleaning today and so after the kids were done with school, I shopvac'd the dining room and actually washed the walls. I was able to do most of that work seated, but still ran out of energy faster than I wanted. I was thinking about what I'd read while I was working, and it occurred to me that one reason I hate housework so much is that it makes me hurt. No animal likes to do something that causes physical pain. But I have plenty of hausfrau guilt in me, so there it is. Maybe I would be a neat nick if I had a real life and normal energy levels. Too much of the time I look at something on the floor and think: If I had the energy to bend down and pick it up, it would be so out of there. And it's easy to get angry.
Gosh, I hate being this obsessed with how my body feels. But I am. It's always in my head like some twisted hedonistic calculus: If I do X then I'll get really tired/in pain and won't be able to do Y...or I can do Y and just push through the pain and fatigue but that means that I definitely won't be able to do Z. Except Z absolutely must be done, so I have to skip Y and rest so I can do Z. Meanwhile A, B, and C just remain undone, not a part of my life because there's no energy for it.
Every once in a while I do A or B or C or a combination of them anyway and then pay a really steep price for, like, the next week or so. And at night I lie in bed and adjust myself to be perfectly even, just so, on my back, and the covers have to be straight so they don't irritate my over sensitized self, and the pj's have to be out of a certain type of fabric for the same reason. Then I lie there and try not to think about where it hurts.
Or I go walking, despite being tired, and play mind games with myself: I play games with my watch, make deals with myself, focus on breathing, focus on the scenery, focus on that bird over there, just keep moving, don't think about the price to pay for getting necessary exercise. Don't think about you legs or your back or your arms, or whatever is hurting. Just go gently for a few more minutes. Then collapse at home. (yeah, yeah, yeah...so I'm not bedridden or in a wheel chair. I know I have lots to be grateful for and there are others in this world who suffer worse than I do. I'm just very very grumpy right now and I wish my fairy godmother would swoop down and cheer me up, OK?)
That's me. Today.
I went to the library web site and put that Anthropologist on Mars book on hold, along with Omnivore's Delimma and some stuff on Russian history.
I decided to do some house cleaning today and so after the kids were done with school, I shopvac'd the dining room and actually washed the walls. I was able to do most of that work seated, but still ran out of energy faster than I wanted. I was thinking about what I'd read while I was working, and it occurred to me that one reason I hate housework so much is that it makes me hurt. No animal likes to do something that causes physical pain. But I have plenty of hausfrau guilt in me, so there it is. Maybe I would be a neat nick if I had a real life and normal energy levels. Too much of the time I look at something on the floor and think: If I had the energy to bend down and pick it up, it would be so out of there. And it's easy to get angry.
Gosh, I hate being this obsessed with how my body feels. But I am. It's always in my head like some twisted hedonistic calculus: If I do X then I'll get really tired/in pain and won't be able to do Y...or I can do Y and just push through the pain and fatigue but that means that I definitely won't be able to do Z. Except Z absolutely must be done, so I have to skip Y and rest so I can do Z. Meanwhile A, B, and C just remain undone, not a part of my life because there's no energy for it.
Every once in a while I do A or B or C or a combination of them anyway and then pay a really steep price for, like, the next week or so. And at night I lie in bed and adjust myself to be perfectly even, just so, on my back, and the covers have to be straight so they don't irritate my over sensitized self, and the pj's have to be out of a certain type of fabric for the same reason. Then I lie there and try not to think about where it hurts.
Or I go walking, despite being tired, and play mind games with myself: I play games with my watch, make deals with myself, focus on breathing, focus on the scenery, focus on that bird over there, just keep moving, don't think about the price to pay for getting necessary exercise. Don't think about you legs or your back or your arms, or whatever is hurting. Just go gently for a few more minutes. Then collapse at home. (yeah, yeah, yeah...so I'm not bedridden or in a wheel chair. I know I have lots to be grateful for and there are others in this world who suffer worse than I do. I'm just very very grumpy right now and I wish my fairy godmother would swoop down and cheer me up, OK?)
That's me. Today.
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