Party Friday + State Fair Saturday = Down for the Count.

Even though I’m feeling much improved, I still struggle with physical stamina, which makes pacing myself critical. Typically, I would never plan two taxing events (for me, anyway) such as hosting a party and attending the state fair, back-to-back. But long story short, that’s the only time we could make both events work. I knew I’d pay a price, but I did it anyway.

I had a fantastic time at both events, but it’s now Monday and I’m still in recovery mode. Yesterday, I was down for the count. I woke up, did my morning walk, ate breakfast (ok, drank breakfast – remember I’m on a liquid diet) and went back to bed. I spent the rest of the day prone in one form or another – rotating between various couches and comfortable chairs. 

I used to get extremely frustrated by these mandatory rest days. I would fight against them and become stressed about everything I wasn’t participating in or accomplishing. I bristled at being out of the game. Of course none of that did anything to help me feel better. 

Over time I have finally come to accept that a major “time out” is the fastest way to get back in the game. I think about it like a hair dryer that has shut down from being overheated. There is only one thing that will enable that hair dryer to turn back on: time. You can fight it, you can be irritated by it, you can not like it, but none of that will hasten the required passage of time to allow it to cool down, and thus start functioning properly again.

It’s the same with me. When my mind and body become “overheated” they shut down. And it’s not the kind of shut down that can be powered through. The only answer is total surrender. The only answer is time. And the tricky part is there is no predicting how much time it will take. Sometimes I bounce back in a day. Sometimes it’s several days, or even the better part of a week.

Over many years I have come to accept that my life has become a constant juggling act of balancing activity with rest. Countering noise with silence. Will it always be this way? I have no idea. As my mind and body continue to heal I hope to become more physically and emotionally resilient. 

But that’s not where I am now. At this moment, I have very little resilience, and I accept that. I don’t like it, but I accept it. And I live my life knowing I have two options – stay between the lines and feel well most of the time, or cross the line and pay the price. 

I mindfully choose to cross the line at times. To do otherwise would cause me to miss out on too much. I wouldn’t give back the party or the trip to the fair for anything. 

So now I rest. Grateful I have the luxury to rest when I need to. Grateful for the times I am able to fully experience life. Grateful for the slow but steady march of healing that is happening in my body every single day.

Even when I’m out of game.