Disabled Chronicles, No.675
My feet feel like I’ve been standing on them all day.
They are achy and throbby and super glad to be in bed.
I did not use my fancy schmancy foldy chair to adjust myself but for one hour today… really over the past four days.
I’ve been working. Planning. Dreaming. Hoping. Crying. Praying. Grounding my feet in the only thing that makes sense to me during this time of year: work.
It’s Oui Color work; my main website work. It’s sitting at my desk for 6 hours straight on Saturday work.
It’s felt overwhelming and futile. Yet I sigh and bury my nose back in it.
It’s felt like the same jagged words about the same goals I’ve been trying to achieve, being uttered. Solid goals. Goals I should be hitting yet consistently don’t. So I still my lips and keep uttering them in my heart, hoping my head will stick to them this coming year, this time.
It’s felt like countering fear of what’s to come with concrete plans and actual actions.
And in the thousands of ways I convince myself to give up, again, I give myself a moment to not think how? and just go right back to it.
Today I felt delirious with tired and overwhelming feelings of ‘I hope things work this time’s and ‘Why am I even doing this anymore’s and I kept at it.
I’ve built a book in three days and uploaded it for sale on my website, I’ve tackled boring website work, I’ve manually renewed my sites SSLs, I’ve designed to within an inch of my sanity.
I think I’ve eaten. I’m sure I’ve taken my meds. I’ve hardly slept even though this body has laid across my comfy bed. And when I get sad thinking about how much more I want for Me, even in the face of how little I can physically still do, I work some more.
I work during this time of year to block out what I don’t like, what I can’t have, what does not make sense, what I’d rather not have to face. I work this time of year because the depression would have me not, the self doubts would rather I give up, because the idea of my SMA gets more scary than usual.
So I work.
To keep busy, to keep from eating myself into a coma trying to self-soothe, to feel accomplished, to keep doing what I can as long as possible, to make grocery money, to make going to the movies money, to prove I can still be viable. To Me… for Me this time.
So the answer is No: I’m not always ok. I’m not always able to smile or laugh, I don’t always have much left during this time of year to be nice or social. I don’t always have enough to overcome the tsunami of feelings or grief, maybe sorrow, sometimes regret, definitely wariness.
I don’t… don’t know how to help any of those things…
But I know how to work.
So I work.