Finding myself in a whirlpool swirling with information from recent web surfing in Health Blahs (my name for my mixed bag of health challenges), and a few have really stuck with me. In my last post, I shared a find on techniques to improve memory and fought with myself about doubling up the goodness. I chose to split the two fave finds from that excursion, mainly to allow myself more time to digest the second post.
The Spoon Theory, by Christine Miserandino has been percolating for a week now, but I am still thinking this is a pretty damned fine way to explain the daily challenges, preparations and planning I need to be comfortable and less needy for whatever may come. Even my therapist, T-Pain, as I call her, suffers from chronic pain and couldn’t find fault with it. To me, the explanation just sings many of the concepts I can’t express.
Obviously, you have to suspend disbelief that you have any tangible way to predict with any certainty what the day has in store for you. Preparations are made and plans are laid to minimize chaos wherever possible. Much of the time, precautions taken end up not having been necessary. But, many times it’s just having done the preparations that gives comfort, rather than any actual need having been met.
Familiar folks: You’ve heard my whining before. Any new folks: I struggle with pain daily. Many that I’m close to also suffer from chronic pain, or love someone that does, and there is a sort of short hand when talking about such things. Traditional follow up questions to someone revealing a new health issue are suspended with an immediate and sympathetic acceptance of the news. This is typically met with a wave of the hand or a “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyways, …” It’s a shared experience. No filler words needed. Yadda yadda yadda.
But for those that don’t really get it, I find that it is tough to find a common language to have more than a superficial conversation without struggling to explain a response that is not standard.
As for what I mean by struggling to explain, for example, being fat (No platitudes, please? We’ve grown beyond that.) and not talking about being miserable/ecstatic on a diet and/or exercise program of one kind or another, I find that I am typically greeted with a sympathetic/energetic encouragement to get back into that cycle. If I, in a moment of honesty to strip away a lengthy avoidance resulting in no real conversation occurring, reveal that no, in fact, I really shouldn’t run. As in, I’ve been advised against doing the healthiest and most successful, enjoyable exercise I’ve ever done, I almost always regret it. People don’t really want to go there – to hear that will power can’t always get you through things. It’s terrifying to think, after a life time of doing, doing, doing. So, I find myself greatly censoring conversations to avoid going into that whole realm of explanations and we all have a good time.
It also appears with the standard, societal question, “And what do you do?”