Tuesday, June 13, 2017
The Cost of Living
I could minimize the pain I experience, the exhaustion, the migraines, and the overall ill feeling that clings to my being. I could choose to avoid doing things that wrack my body with pain and necessitate days of recovery time afterwards. I could merely exist.
I choose to live. I choose to pay the quite high cost of living in this body. I choose to pay the price of pain, nausea, fatigue, even pain-induced panic attacks in order to live life to the fullest.
Every day I weigh the cost of doing anything from mundane tasks to fully investing myself in a day full of theatrical rehearsals, the care and keeping of a horde of teenagers, and doing daily mom things. At times, a trip to the grocery store necessitates rest for the remainder of the day. Other times, I can keep going all day ... or for a few days ... and then spend two or three days, sometimes a week, paying back the debt of energy and body use.
The wrench in the works is that I never know how much I have in my being-a-functional-person bank each day. Some days I start out feeling like I can do everything on my to do list and then some, only to find that halfway through my second errand that I'm about to pass out from fatigue or pain. Other days I feel like my stores are beyond depleted, yet rally toward the end of a day of relative rest.
The constant uncertainty makes every day an adventure, although most days, not the adventure I'd otherwise choose.
Not long ago, tech week for Unfinished People - an original play in which two of my children acted and for which I did costuming, made props, and various other things - engulfed my life. We had rehearsals daily for a week, followed by three performances. The same week, I spent at last fifteen hours working on a book of remembrance for my pastor, who retired on the day of the last Unfinished People performance, as well as leading an Interpretive Movement Ministry performance, needle felting twenty caterpillars for cast gifts, and trying to balance daily living, five children, running a household, and getting enough rest so my body wouldn't shut down.
Things were going ok until Thursday, when I had a migraine that nearly caused me to cancel all plans for the day. Thankfully some ibuprofen, caffeine, packing my head in ice, and taking a nap helped me on my way. An increase in medications that keep me moving made the rest of the week and the weekend possible.
And then there was this past week. I was barely able to get out of bed for three days. The first day, I didn't get out of my pajamas. I managed a trip to the grocery store the next day, a trip to the thrift store another, and another couple errands day four. I still haven't made it back to relative normal, but should in a day or two.
This is the price I pay for doing what I love. And that's ok. Along with scheduling doing things I love, I schedule time to recuperate from said things. This is my life, and I choose to live it, not just go through the motions, even if the cost of living is high.