It’s been a strange couple of weeks. I think I have operated as two people, two people who couldn’t be more different, two people who don’t seem to belong together. One of them has had a wonderful time, whilst the other, well, not so much.
Some of you will know I have dabbled with Reiki recently – this is part of my continued ‘nail complete recovery’ package. Whilst it is true that I am better than I was, which of course, is fantastic, I am not able to do as much as a normal person, if indeed there is such a thing as normal. But I do I aspire to be as healthy and well as I can be, and for this I still have work to do.
I’ve had Reiki for a couple of months and sometimes I have had reactions to those sessions, then two weeks ago I had my worst reaction so far: I was completely zonked and plastered to the sofa for days. Is this sounding familiar to anyone? It sounds a lot like a big fat dose of CFS doesn’t it? But as I don’t get these anymore I had forgotten how truly awful it is to feel so unwell.
Even though I knew what was causing the horridness and I knew it would lift and I am so grateful to not spend my life feeling like this anymore, it was no fun. No fun at all.
As the ‘healing crisis’ lifted, I had one day respite (thankfully I spent this with my best friend watching a beautiful and creative contemporary ballet) before a period from hell began. And so started a week of being in pain, broken sleep and generally feeling grotty.
But you have to laugh don’t you: two weeks of feeling awful and none of it caused by CFS; I guess, it is still progress, just not the kind I had in mind!
And somewhere in the midst of all of this I have felt restless – emotionally and psychologically. I don’t know if this is in response to the Reiki; I don’t know if I even believe you can have such a deep response to someone waving their hands over you (although something definitely happens in the sessions and I can feel heat coming through the therapist’s hands). Or maybe the restlessness is down to me having time to think about what my new life looks like.
Husband’s job takes him away a lot of the time and due to all the above drama, I have been home more than normal. And in a bid to keep myself distracted from feeling unwell I have written more, which is the good part, the amazing part, of the last two weeks: I have made some real tangible steps forward with my writing goals.
And here we have it – I have done more writing in the last two weeks than I would normally do, but I have also spent more time on my own. And dare I say it, I have felt lonely. It has brought home to me that if I am going to be a writer – am a writer – I will be working on my own pretty much all the time, so I need to find a way to balance that with time out of the apartment and time with other people.
When you are desperate to get well, you imagine well life will be easy and straight forward, that you will just be so glad to get there that you will be happy doing anything, doing everything. But of course, this is not the reality. As I get closer to being completely well, there isn’t a ready-made life for me to pick up, I have to create one, a new one – and that takes time and thought and work.
In my dream life, I write in the day and I meet friends in the evening, go to the cinema with a girl-friend, or to the theatre, or to yoga, or to an evening class; relishing being an independent woman with an array of interests. Then when Husband comes back on a Friday I will be a sparkly wife ready for a romantic reunion. (Not this week mind, this week he got a fat, grumpy, hormonal, tired wife – ooh, I’m good to him.)
But I am not quite there yet, I still can’t quite do what I want and in the evenings I often end up taking it easy. I do make the effort to arrange to see friends in the week for a coffee, or a lunch, but it’s difficult – everyone is on a different schedule to me, some friends have kids and have such little spare time, another is away in the week too, another is so busy at work and often works evenings, another has recently moved. And also, I don’t want to spend all week floating around ‘doing’ coffee, I want to work hard and get to the end of the week and feel like I have achieved something. So part of me just wants to shut myself away and use all my energy on writing.
So I feel unsettled, it’s good unsettled I think, if that makes any sense. My mind is trying to come up with a solution for a new lifestyle, which inherently means it believes this is for keeps; it means my mind is building confidence that my wellness is for good and going to carry on improving. I keep reminding myself I don’t have to have all the answers at once, that piece by piece they are coming together.
I KNOW with all my heart that I want to write, and I know that I have the drive and determination to make it happen (and let’s assume I am good enough, or the party is over before I’ve even chosen what shoes to wear). But I also know that I need to – want to – live a balanced life. I just need to find a way to tie it all together, and I will, I’m just not quite there – yet.
If you work home alone and have any advice, I would love to hear it…