wonder

I was looking over some of my blogs from 2012, and one stood out to me.

pessimism & hope 

"I would love to begin a post one day by writing something like this:

Feeling well, and coping with life at the moment.

Apparently it is possible to feel that you are coping with life, I’ve heard of people who do, but I don’t think I’ve felt like that for a solid three years."

And because I would love to begin a post like and for it to be true, I will write it now.

Feeling well, and coping with life at the moment.

There, I said it. I meant it, I felt it.

If I couldn’t put into words how great the suffering of chronic illness feels, I can even less put into words the inexpressible amazement and joy of returning to health when you didn’t expect you would. There are simply not words in our vocabulary which do justice to these feelings. ‘Amazed’ has been so overused in such inappropriate circumstances that it falls far short.'Flabbergasted’ is getting closer but seems to imply an unsettled amazement – and quite frankly, I feel blissfully content. 

It is inarticulatable, and I suppose that is a beautiful thing. Perhaps only common things can be fully expressed in words. After all, there are so many things in life which can’t quite be captured or comprehended because of the huge complexity of our minds and bodies. When words fail, I think that images and music can often reach a little closer. 

Thomas Tallis lived a long time before us, in the 1500’s. His music is heart wrenchingly glorious and this piece seems to capture the unspeakable. This peice says ‘wonder’ to me. 

Spem in Alium

Wishing you a year filled with beautiful moments, smiles, increasing courage, comfort, relationships & well days.

Danielle x

Nothing is permanent in this wicked world, not even our troubles - Charlie Chaplin

silence

photo source

Winter has arrived. I love the cold sharp air, the wet piles of autumn leaves, and the dark cosy evenings cuddled up with Ben and our book. I remember last winter so clearly – from the beginning of the cold days to very end, my immune system fought hard and lost in the battle against viruses. I went from virus to virus with barely a week of ‘normality’ in between; at one stage I even had bronchitis. Instead of just feeling awful from CFS/POTS, I had on top of that the weakness that comes from a body putting all its reserves into fighting evil lurgys, and spent a lot of time in bed. A normal cold in my weak and sickly body plays out as a full blown flu. I feel like crying as I write this – since the chilly days arrived a month ago, I have been sick with a virus and I fear that I will spend another winter in the darkness of ‘double-illness’. My doctor says there’s nothing I can do, and my blood tests show my typical swollen liver as it battles away. I have to wait, and stand aside as it flails around desperately trying to kill off the intruders. There’s a helpless feeling as I think about the coming months, and my weak immune system. Another winter in the home as I sleep, play my flute, knit, write, and generally try to keep my spirits up in the wilderness of feeling unwell. I know that if I take it one day at a time I will make it, sometimes half days is the only way to get through.

Do not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Sometimes I just cry. The thing I love about Ben is that he never asks me why. He knows. He knows that life is hard, and that words can never do justice to the feelings which dwell deep down. Each tear encapsulates a thought – fear, frustration, hope, longing, sadness, wonder, confusion, pain, and dreams put aside. The silence and the tears say more than I could ever offer in a book of my thoughts. He doesn’t even try to cheer me up, say something to ‘help’ or tell me to keep my chin up. There is a point where words are useless, and his arms and silence are the greatest comfort.

I wonder as I’m going to see a friend what I can say to help. And then I remember that just being there, and being an ear is all that is needed at times. Why do I think that I need to have something profound to say, when I know so well that human presence means the most? When I know that trickling tears are not solvable with floods of words?

listen.

one of those weeks where i no longer cared about anything.

i didn’t want to pick up my flute. i couldn’t face baking muffins. i detested the idea of going to the gym, again. i felt scatty, so scatty. a foggy grayness settled over me, from the endless monotony of  daily routines.

i tried to make myself keep going, keep plodding along that well worn path. it only intensified my blahness.

 so i went to the library, chose three new books, and snuggled up to read them. i painted my nails, i gave my blog a face lift, i went to body balance instead of cycle, i wrote letters to my grandparents.

we make routines for our benefit, not our imprisonment. if your body is begging for some rest, it’s probably because it needs it. why do we ignore how we feel so often? if i’d listened to my body when i was a teenager, would I be chronically ill today?

picture source

i’m feeling better. fresher. smiling. more motivated. sometimes the cure is so simple.

it’s not lazy to listen. it’s possibly the greatest investment into a healthy life. i wish i’d learnt this earlier.