I love writing my happy little Texa-rina memoirs. I think part of my love for writing them is that they provide me a little vacation and are helping me to appreciate the parts of my life that were not tainted with POTS. I am on a mission to value the ballet experience I have too. Meanwhile, POTS is still wreaking havoc. Last week was one of my worst weeks in a while. I still have trouble seeing any rhyme or reason to the flares, but I do have some suspicions. Exercise is a tough trigger to have. On one hand, I'm getting so frustrated with my sedentary life, but on the other hand, activity makes me feel sick! I took the dog on an uphill walk for about 30 minutes that knocked me out for about 3 days. Lame. Lame. Lame!
I decided that I needed to just take time again to be sad. I really struggle to let myself mourn the losses POTS has brought to my door (mostly my youth, vigor, and dreams of being an active mom). I try to be thankful for what I have and feel like it's just unthankful to linger over the parts that suck. Not to mention, not everyone is ready and able to jump into the sadness with me- which I understand.
One thing that I have somewhat comfortably concluded in the last few weeks is this: I will feel terrible if I'm going to feel terrible. I cannot spend my life conserving energy just for the sake of not having flares of POTS. They come even if I do everything perfectly- whatever that means. I would rather spend my life as a series of bright bursts. Party! rest rest rest rest rest. Beach day! rest rest rest rest rest. Yard work! rest rest rest... It seems like a much more attractive plan than just being mildly well and extremely boring. Taking care of oneself means so much more than just putting your feet up and taking your vitamins. I have a soul to look after (and FAMILY), not just a sick body. Being sick is giving me the opportunity every day to decide who I really am and really want to be.
I decided that I needed to just take time again to be sad. I really struggle to let myself mourn the losses POTS has brought to my door (mostly my youth, vigor, and dreams of being an active mom). I try to be thankful for what I have and feel like it's just unthankful to linger over the parts that suck. Not to mention, not everyone is ready and able to jump into the sadness with me- which I understand.
One thing that I have somewhat comfortably concluded in the last few weeks is this: I will feel terrible if I'm going to feel terrible. I cannot spend my life conserving energy just for the sake of not having flares of POTS. They come even if I do everything perfectly- whatever that means. I would rather spend my life as a series of bright bursts. Party! rest rest rest rest rest. Beach day! rest rest rest rest rest. Yard work! rest rest rest... It seems like a much more attractive plan than just being mildly well and extremely boring. Taking care of oneself means so much more than just putting your feet up and taking your vitamins. I have a soul to look after (and FAMILY), not just a sick body. Being sick is giving me the opportunity every day to decide who I really am and really want to be.