I slept 15 hours last night.
Alas, I woke up without an alarm, and felt rested for a good fifteen minutes before the mind foggy tiredness crept back in. Here's to hoping I can salvage this weekend and the pets will forgive my lapse in attentive catering. Tilly and El slept too, so at least they won't be holding a grudge.
Some thoughts this fine morning as I drink strong coffee with hopes of physical and mental revivial:
Guinea Pig. I never knew I needed a guinea pig in my kitchen. I had a rat visiting my kitchen without permission and thought I needed to move as a result, and finally killed it (and his brethren) with brutal snap traps, putting Rodent Trauma on the list of things I'd like to erase from my mind should a sci-fi drug to do this becomes available. Horrific experience. Now, I look to my left, and there is a very corpulent rodent happily nibbling alfalfa on a piece of unicorn covered polar fleece, taking breaks to wash his little face with his little pink feet and showing me his tiny rabbit-like mouth, which makes me squee like a five year old. Welcome, Piggy. I named him Basil, but have to admit, Piggy is sticking. Hope he stays for a while. Who knew? Age 51, like guinea pigs. New knowledge.
Letting things go. Over the last year I have let go of a lot of things as my health has felt like it was getting worse. Guilt over not creating art every day was the biggest monster, and I focused each day on just getting through it, caring for my birds, dogs, and cats, and spending time with people I love. I fully understand how my dad's life grew smaller and smaller as he dealt with this plague (or something similar) so that all he seemed to do after a certain point was lay on his bed and watch t.v. It is downright exhausting, mentally and physically, to be in pain. The fatigue piece of the arthritis is an additional piece of the puzzle, and I can see that it has increased dramatically over the last six months. In my mind I would say "Yeah, so it is pain, so what, can't change it, move on..." and just keep pushing. Somewhere over the last year, the bag burst and I became just too tired to do anything. I've spent my creative time over this year experimenting a lot with computer printed fabric, English paper piecing, bead making, and very little else, and there have been no "grand pieces" to leave my studio wall. I get angry at the fact that I now have the tools and materials that I need to make the art I want to make, but my body doesn't give me the time. One of life's ironies, and I have to make peace with it.
Small accomplishments matter. I go to work, a lot of people with the scourge of RA can't. I love my job, many people hate thiers. I walk my dogs after work nearly every day and multiple times on weekends, and try to give them as good a life as they can have. I have amazing friends and family who add color to an otherwise monochrome world. I have to remember that my "baseline" for an average day is an accomplishment in itself, sometimes.
I haven't given up yet. Despite the want, I have not sold all my machines and fabrics and gone to live in a hut somewhere in Aswan, though the thought has crossed my mind. New meds might come out, or I might have a period of less disease activity so that I can do better and more. I am enrolled in a great textile course that is challenging me to think and create in new ways, and haven't given up the creative journey quite yet. That in itself is an accomplishment, I think. Cheers to 2019.