a day in the life of me

I often get asked how I spend my days at home, sans work or infants. This is an example of a pretty good day. Pretty good days come when I follow this simple routine for weeks on end, without too many outings/energy-using occasions.

I spend my days going slow, as slow as my eighty year old grandma. If I go slowly and gently, I can exist with minimal pain and actually improve a little. In the long run, I get can give and enjoy more by going this pace, because it fosters stability. I farewell the run, crash, run, crash cycle.

8.30 – I start to surface after Ben has kissed me goodbye for work. I just grunt ‘goodbye’ {this could also be interpreted by him as ‘I love you’} because I like to stay in my sleepy zone. If I wake up early, I have a guaranteed sick day.

9:00 – I slowly crawl out of bed, and start oil pulling. I swish a tablespoon of coconut oil around in my mouth to pull from it toxins which compromise my weak teeth and immune system. After 20 minutes of swishing, I go and brush my teeth. I detest the taste of toothpaste while eating breakfast, but oh well.

9:30 – I make my breakfast, and it is exactly the same every single day. Routine is a lifeline for me.

corn puffs

rice puffs

shredded coconut

chia seeds

linseed meal

nuts

rice milk

then I drink a large glass of luke warm water to keep my body temperature stable, and swallow about twenty tablets.

10:00 – Now I’m heading for a shower, and there is no rushing and not enough concern for water conservation. My dad would die if he knew I used heat lamps in the summer too. After I’m dressed and mascared, I celebrate my victory with a little sit down and no champagne.

10.30 – It’s time to deal with my postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome {POTS}. A few days without exercise and my head goes black every time I try to walk. I drive to the gym – and depending on health, this is hazardous as my eyes struggle to focus and prefer to stay relaxed and blurry. I have a program of 20 minutes of cardio on the bike, treadmill, or cross trainer, and 10 minutes of stretching. I leave my fellows sweating it out with my speedy workout, and I feel the best I will feel all day while I’m exercising. I feel alive, but it’s worn off by the time I’m back in the car.

11:30 – I’ve arrived home and it’s time to sit down, sometimes with tea and some sugar/dairy/gluten free treat. Then lunch, where I try to stack on the carbs and protein because my body uses energy the same way I use shower water.

The afternoon is less structured. If I’m still functioning, I’ll do a couple of jobs. Maybe I’ll clean the bathroom, or fold washing, write an email, make an appointment, bath the dog. If I do too much, I get wiped out on the couch with a headache and dizziness.

I need to be restful, so I’ll also read books, make things, water my garden, and do all in my power not to fall asleep. Falling asleep sometimes happens accidentally, but it also brings on insomnia, so I have to very strict with myself.

5:15 – Ben arrives home from work! Wolfie the cavoodle goes psycho with yelping and jumping, because he knows he’s about to get a walk.  We drive to the waterfront or botanical gardens for some nature and catch up time. Then Ben cooks dinner or heats up left overs {he makes incredible food!} and I make a salad, or rest if I need to.  

The evening is eating dinner, reading together, and hopping into bed around 9.30. Ben usually picks me up off the couch and carries me to bed. Then I rest up for a few minutes, hop out and brush my teeth.

The day is done! My favourite days of all are these quiet home ones, where I can be so gentle as to keep the pain and fatigue at bay. Tiring days which escalate into accompanying symptoms are the ones where I catch up with someone, have to go to an appointment, have to go to the shops....those days usually aren’t ‘pretty good days’.

Thoughtful people wonder if going out for coffee with friends might help with boredom, not realising that this ‘boredom’ is the key to feeling ok. I have grown to be content in my own company and the silence of my home, and my body thrives on peace. Others envy my idyllic housewife life. And if I felt well, and could care for my home and see friends, it would be a most luxurious and lazy life. But to me this is a full day. Just as one person’s limit is a 40 hour work week, mine is a shower, gym and a job. 

survival of the weakest

I didn’t know what to write for some time. I didn’t feel like documenting the hardness of the day to day survival...everyone knows that sometimes dull and endless rhythm of getting through one tough day, sleeping, and then repeating again and again. Actual laughter, the suffocating and nearly wetting the floor variety, which is so common for me, was stifled, smothered and replaced with a similar yet opposite emotion requiring tissues. Survival of the weakest; this best describes this period of time. But this weakling did survive and two things were literally god-sends to make a weary soul smile.

Source

One was a lady at my exercise class. She stands out from the all the rest – she isn’t attired in Lululemon and Nike lyrca, with bleached blonde hair and make-up like most of the Ivanhoe women. She wears daggy ¾ length pants, with a sloppy t-shirt, her black hair in a girl-like bob. I’ve no idea how old she is, I never can gauge age very well with Asians, but perhaps she is late 40’s. She stands out not just in attire, but in ability. She is so very uncoordinated, always executing the aerobic moves slightly behind the rest, in the most hunched over and jumbled manner – often completely lost in fact. I glance over at her, and see her face filled with the most irresistible smile I have ever witnessed. There is no shame at struggling with the choreography; there is just pure joy of moving to upbeat music and learning new things. I cannot possibly contain my smile when I witness hers because it bubbles up inside me. The faster the steps and the more dance-like, the more her beautiful face beams and she sometimes giggles like a little girl. Meanwhile everyone else has their “I’m concentrating really hard, don’t look at my sweat, I’m a cool person” contortions plastered across their faces. Intent on perfectifying their ‘hot’ bodies they are nothing on this most precious lady. I wonder why she comes to the gym every day, is it for the joy of it or is she unwell too? I feel privileged to be in her classes, because she is like sunshine pouring into my lounge in the morning or a drink of tea at the end of a long day. 

The second thing helping me survive was the ball of fluff which now resides in our small top-storey flat. He pees, and poos, and cries like a true baby, all of which are excessively wearying. But his reaction to me in the morning is enough to wipe away the memory of the hard work he sometimes is...Ben takes him out of den and he looks around to see me lying in bed. Immediately he wriggles violently in Ben’s arms, and so Ben plonks him on the bed to say hello to me. His tail wags exuberantly, and he is a ball of excited joy as he licks my face over and over, apparently delighted to see me. Why does he love me so much? Me, who often feels like such a nuisance or failure for lying on the couch endlessly and ‘achieving’ nothing. Wolfgang doesn’t care a scrap for those things, he cares that I cuddle him and nurture him. He is my most forgiving friend, and never has anyone been so delighted to greet me. Unconditional great love is the gift he gives me, and so every day begins with a smile.