Ch-ch-changes

 

A while back, I made a series of rayon chenille and bamboo scarves with words as the design.  This one is 'Create Joy'.

I'm registered for a class on Pain Management and last week they talked about mental health.  Now, I've been to counselling, learned some really helpful stuff (no, it was not easy changing my thought patterns, but needs must) and then did a bunch of 'self' work with a friend who also felt the need to address some growth, so I was reasonably familiar with some of the concepts.

But as part of the last class I realized I had one potentially toxic self-message that I needed to stop and think about.  And maybe change.

I have spent pretty much the last 65 years with the foundational attitude that no one was going to 'give' me anything.  If I wanted something, I was going to have to go out, hunt it down, and work to get it for myself.

Well, of course in the past 65 years there have been lots of helping hands along the way, but the attitude?  Did not change.  I still felt the urge, the drive, to do more.  To never let the grass grow under my feet.  

That didn't mean I was put off when I 'failed' - as I did (and still do) frequently.  Just that I had to pick  myself up, dust myself off and set off again.  (As I write this, I'm remembering a popular tune from the 1950's which pretty much says that.)

Instead my body is saying 'no'.  No to the constant 'push' to do more.  No to the constant berating of myself when by body simply cannot.  No to expecting to act like a 30 something, heal like a 30 something, bounce out of bed like a 30 something.

It is very disconcerting to pause the self-talk about hoisting myself out of the recliner and get to the loom - and then learn to be ok with myself if I cannot.  To take afternoon naps.  Etc.

We are still on the search to get more answers.  I may yet find a more comfortable level of living, although I'm beginning to get more comfortable with doing...less...than my inner critic is still trying to achieve.  On Friday, when asked for more tests to be done, I told the doctor I want to try to increase my level of comfort in this body.  Hopefully to live with less pain.  To be able to do things without paying for them with more pain.  Every damn day.

And try to reassure that inner 10 year old that 65 years of doing more, with less, is sufficient, and I'm not 'lazy' because I cannot.

In the meantime, the warp is ready to weave and I'm going to go see if it looks ok.  Or not.  Regardless, the cloth will still dry dishes...