Took myself to church this morning. Woke up feeling almost human and in a lot less pain for the first time in a week so I thought ‘carpe diem’ and reassured my husband I was well enough to tootle off to the church around the corner and start healing my battered spirit. Strangely enough, fixing the bones has proved to be the easy bit. Now, stripped of self confidence, I am unsure of who I am anymore – everything has changed and I recognise very little of myself. I’m sure I’m in here somewhere, but I have learned to follow, to listen, to dedicate my time to others so completely, I don’t remember how to lead, to speak out, to entertain myself playing my instruments, writing, exploring, playing . . . I’ve been a patient for so long I’ve become institutionalised to the ways of chronic illness. That may sound dramatic, but it is far easier to stay in the house alone while my family work/school each day than it is to engage in real life. I don’t have to face my limitations if I’m alone. At home, being tired and napping isn’t public and so I do as I please. How stressful it is to take myself out and feel fatigue and/or pain creeping up on me after 20-40 minutes of an outing, knowing it’ll take me an hour to get home, yet I daren’t take a painkiller that may knock me out so struggle home feeling the attempt to go out was wasted.
Church was lovely. Peaceful time to myself, the sermon was thought provoking and interesting and the hymns were all significant and stirring (although I seem to have lost my singing voice which saddened me. Baby steps, baby steps.) Rev Karen is young and firey – the congregation are a good mix of young and old with little uns for my boys to feel they may want to come. Fingers crossed .