My mantra for the week has been: I'm not fuckin' around anymore!
I have been out of the house every day for 3 weeks, I've been on time for appointments and plans, I've gotten on the treadmill, I've been doing my physical therapy exercises, I've been talking to people, reading emphatically, writing, trying to get organized.... In the words of Penny Lane, "It's all happening..."
I've been a procrastinator, lazy, gluttonous. I've been self-righteous and self-hating (don't they always go together?).... 3 weeks ago, my normal day involved dragging my ass out of bed around 12-2 and pretty much laying around watching tv all day. Yes, I admit that it's nice to not have to go to work but it also allows for a lot of waste -- body and mind. I'll never be strong or consistent enough in my body to be able to have a "normal" job, and by that I mean this: I don't know how I will wake up feeling from day to day - I could be ok, or maybe I can't get out of bed or walk. Somedays I can't breathe as well, somedays I almost pass out in the shower from lack of oxygen. I can't promise an employer that I will be able to sit, stand, lift, or even speak. I also can't promise them that I will be at work. My issue isn't not being able to find a job, I truly can't work in the traditional sense of the word. The real issue is what happens when I don't have anywhere I have to be, really no one to answer to...
The last couple weeks have really taught me that I am responsible for everything. If I'm not happy, it's my responsibility to get happy. I can put in place certain rules for myself, wake up by x:xx, shower, be on time, whatever, but NO ONE holds me to any of it but me. Everyone in my life is so used to me missing appointments, bailing out of plans, sleeping all day, avoiding society because it hurts, etc.
Of course it hurts, it's life, and "life is trauma." (Jeanette Winterson)