I have been struggling a bit over the past few months; ill, stressed-out. Having got myself together a bit from mid-May, I did more work on the front garden, as the pressure to get that done was a source of stress which I could address. I could picture myself doing another create 365 post and adding the paths and beds of the front garden to my creations.
Just being out and working on it again felt good, even though I was low on energy. I soon found that I could only do so much weeding, wrangling the path edging into place and knocking in pegs before my hands started to ache. At first, I put it down to just being out of condition, unused to the work. Switching to the computer to do some typing and editing didn't help, something as simple as doing the washing up felt like hard work. Within the week, I found my finger joints were so painful I couldn't make a fist. Putting on hand cream felt wonderful, cool and smooth.
I had hoped that I'd be able to get the garden done, get crafting and generally catch up in all directions, but with burning, aching hands, it was hard to get anything done. I've always been good at opening jars, and now I'm struggling with them. I am so not impressed. [Expletives deleted - Ed.]
I fixed my washing line, where a line had worn against the hole in the arm and broken next to the fastener. It was easier than I thought it would be, as there was enough spare line in the fastener at the other end to rearrange it. Then I cleaned the line (although looking at it today, that's difficult to tell!) and it was ready for some of the dry weather we had in April. It's fixed, that counts!
I've just had a heavy cold and felt really under the weather for a fortnight, with sleep a welcome respite from the coughing and sinus headaches. At the beginning of the week, it felt like the lights were coming back on, and I've been madly trying to catch up ever since. I'm wary about getting frazzled out, but the sun is currently shining (which it hasn't done very much here so far this summer) and I do have lots to do. According to the weather forecast, we're due a few days of thunderstorms and heavy rain (yellow warning issued) from Sunday (the day after tomorrow), so I'm making the most of it and hopefully seeing a friend tomorrow for some downtime.
This batch of things: 1
Cumulative total: 22
A reflective journal of my Dancing, Gardening, Arts and Crafts, Working, Domesticated and Wild Life.
Showing posts with label energy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label energy. Show all posts
Friday, 21 June 2019
Thursday, 16 May 2019
Stress response
I'm fine!
I am!
Actually, not so much.
I've been sleeping well, eating well, perhaps not exercising and certainly not dancing as much as I could or should. I've taken time to relax, be in nature (or at least, the garden, same thing!) and do some mindful meditation. I actively manage my whirling mind.
But my body tried to tell me that I am under stress. My joints are still in achy, winter mode, my hands particularly troublesome. I'm low on energy and tire quickly - both mental and physical stamina are poor. I've been having headaches and indigestion, both very unusual for me. My neck is tight and when I roll my shoulders, it sounds like a symphony of pops and crackles.
Around the end of March, I had a flare of dermatitis on my hands and feet. It's a type called pompholyx, or dishydrotic eczema, where patches of small, itchy, stinging water-blisters develop and coalesce, drying out over a fortnight or so to leave cracked and peeling skin.
Then at the end of April, I came down on a Monday morning, freshly showered and ready for breakfast and to start the day, and I was violently ill. Without being too graphic, it felt like my insides were leaving in both directions. I hate throwing up, and have to remind myself that it's a normal physical reaction, because it makes me feel really sick. I was left with abdominal cramps and after another shower, returned to bed. By Friday, I still felt like the bottom was dropping out of my world and went to see the doctor (anyone who knows me, knows this is another unusual event!) It took nearly another week for the medication to do its bit. The first half of May spent feeling below par! How can I begin to catch up?
Now I have a fresh crop of blisters appearing on my fingers.
Okay Mind, listen to your Body! You thought you were okay, but you're not. Stress can be an insidious thing. Time for me to have a think about what's going on.
Any other suggestions?
I am!
Actually, not so much.
I've been sleeping well, eating well, perhaps not exercising and certainly not dancing as much as I could or should. I've taken time to relax, be in nature (or at least, the garden, same thing!) and do some mindful meditation. I actively manage my whirling mind.
But my body tried to tell me that I am under stress. My joints are still in achy, winter mode, my hands particularly troublesome. I'm low on energy and tire quickly - both mental and physical stamina are poor. I've been having headaches and indigestion, both very unusual for me. My neck is tight and when I roll my shoulders, it sounds like a symphony of pops and crackles.
Around the end of March, I had a flare of dermatitis on my hands and feet. It's a type called pompholyx, or dishydrotic eczema, where patches of small, itchy, stinging water-blisters develop and coalesce, drying out over a fortnight or so to leave cracked and peeling skin.
Then at the end of April, I came down on a Monday morning, freshly showered and ready for breakfast and to start the day, and I was violently ill. Without being too graphic, it felt like my insides were leaving in both directions. I hate throwing up, and have to remind myself that it's a normal physical reaction, because it makes me feel really sick. I was left with abdominal cramps and after another shower, returned to bed. By Friday, I still felt like the bottom was dropping out of my world and went to see the doctor (anyone who knows me, knows this is another unusual event!) It took nearly another week for the medication to do its bit. The first half of May spent feeling below par! How can I begin to catch up?
Now I have a fresh crop of blisters appearing on my fingers.
Okay Mind, listen to your Body! You thought you were okay, but you're not. Stress can be an insidious thing. Time for me to have a think about what's going on.
- Brexit was due 29th March. It hasn't happened, yet, and it still makes me feel hopeless. It turns out Brexit stress is now a thing and adversely affecting the health of the nation!
- Preparing for the Khaled Mahmoud workshops, all the planning of what to take, how to pack, what to dance, how to travel, where to stay, and would the cats be okay for being left overnight?
- Then the anxiety of finding that Xena, left overnight, had managed to damage her tail (luckily not badly. I checked that she still had feeling and movement at the tip and that there were no obvious kinks or breaks, swelling or pain. She could carry the half closest to her body upright, and let the rest hang in a curve. I was very gentle with her and protective, arranging her tail so it was well-aligned and protected when she was asleep and full function was restored within the week, but still, anxiety, guilt ...).
- Feeling helpless in the face of climate change, (eco-anxiety is now a thing, too!).
- ... and the sheer, bloody idiocy, hypocrisy and corruption of some politicians and sections of the population, worldwide.
- Trying and failing to keep on top of the chaotic house and getting to grips with the garden. A perfect vicious circle, as feeling ill saps energy needed to do it, so it gets worse, so anxiety increases, so feeling more stressed and ill and without energy etc. etc. etc.)
- Fretting about friends with difficult mental and physical health issues. It's my choice to be there for them, even if only on Messenger, and I know I can't fix things (because my magic wand still hasn't been delivered, can you believe it? Come on Universe, I've had the order out for one for years now!).
- The publication of proposed changes to the local plan, showing all the fields behind the house under consideration for development, which alone would grow the village by around a quarter of its current size and obliterate views of fields, hills, the next village ...
- No swallows! Still!
Any other suggestions?
Friday, 4 November 2016
Renewed Energy
Last week was half term, and with no classes to teach and the offer from a local friend to look in on my cats, I went away for a couple of days to see my friend S. She has IIH (as a primary condition, there are other problems!), and moved into a little semi-detached council bungalow set up for disabled living at about the same time I moved last year. Since she moved, she has successfully fought for her disability welfare payments (which were stopped after her re-assessment, where some incompetent jackass didn't document the issues correctly and they decided she wasn't disabled enough to qualify). The payments were backdated, too, so she has been able to go from overdrawn-and-what-the-hell-am-I-supposed-to-do-for-money to being able to get by well enough to be able to get by while concentrating on managing her conditions. She was also lucky in having good neighbours, who look out for each other. The pub at the bottom of her road even delivers her Sunday roast lunch, (we went there for lunch on the second day, and the food is good and reasonably priced!). The little bungalow is just right, with a little patio area and low maintenance flower bed out the back, so her Chihuahua can do his business and scamper around a little. He's evidently settled in well too! He's a complete sweetheart, so cute, especially when he sings along to the Family Guy theme. Well, 'sings' might be the wrong word, it's more like a howl and it's extremely funny.
S spoiled me rotten, giving me her old mobile so that I now have a working mobile phone again (not only that, but a smart phone too!). And, as we did occasionally when she lived down this end of the country before she became ill, we decided to have a spa afternoon. After scouting around, she decided we should go a little further afield and booked a couple of packages at the Celtic Manor.
We arrived only a couple of minutes late. S had been directed to the underground parking, where disabled spots were available near the entrance door to the spa level. They may have been close to the door, but weren't wide enough to allow easy access (such as opening the car door all the way to get the walker out easily, or space to use it past other parked cars!) and the parking charges were rather a rude shock as well. The light lunch was nice, although the lobby level which contained the bars and restaurants was a maze of changes of level, not ideal for someone using a walker. Good job we didn't take the wheelchair! There was a way through without steps up and down, but it wasn't obvious. The facial and back massage were utter bliss; the pool, crowded with kids and parents at half term, rather less so. The communal spa pool/jacuzzi was really not accessible unless you could manage a large step up and the pool surrounds were rather slippery. Even the women-only jacuzzi was not easy to step up and down into and rather noisy, as one of the jets was really strong and gushed water up the corner of the pool. Not what I would expect from a 5 star hotel, and I think our old haunt at The Cliff in Gwbert does it better, feeling much more like a sanctuary, and with heated loungers too!
My drive to Pengam took longer than the couple of hours suggested by the AA, causing S some consternation that we would be late for our spa date. However, my drive home took even longer. Not only was I in my usual 'where on earth am I?' mode, trying to drive and navigate in a strange place in the dark, but having successfully got back onto the Heads of the Valleys road and settled into its groove with 21 miles to Neath, I found the road closed with a diversion taking us down the A470 onto the M4. It seemed to go on forever, taking me past signs which pointed to places close to where I'd started from, a good 3/4 hour previously. Once on the M4, the first sign I saw announced that Neath was 30 miles away. Not that there were many work-arounds for that road closure, but the Maps app on the phone will come in useful, as it will act as a satnav for those occasions where I had previously followed my nose and continued in ever decreasing circles until I found my destination.
I got home to find the cats a little clingy after my night away from them (the first since we moved) but none the worse for having been shut in for a couple of days. The next morning, far from feeling fresh from my spa treat and break, I felt tired out, my knees painful from the driving. I spent much of that day just sitting, knitting, binge watching Strictly It Takes 2 to catch up before the weekend's shows. I started a pair of socks to test out my 'everyday socks' pattern just before going away, and finished them on my rest day (so must write up that pattern!).
The day's rest was just what I needed, and since then I have been steadily reducing the laundry pile, doing a first read-through of a friend's novella (a compelling read, must send the notes back!), which prompted me to blog a little (because I've hardly written anything this year!), applying for a couple of jobs, getting a new sim for the phone and my old number ported over, and generally trying to learn how to use it without my head exploding. In a couple of months, it will probably become a natural part of my everyday existence to the extent where not having it will feel like I'm missing a limb, or something.
Having started to knit again, I was rummaging through my stash of yarns for some sock yarn I thought I'd bought, in order to test out my everyday socks pattern in a smaller size than my hefty, wide feet and ankles. I didn't find it, probably because I thought I had better finish some WIPs before I indulged in more yarn or started another project. I found some other yarn I'd been looking for and, yes, more WIPs, although since they'd been packed away since I moved and I'd forgotten about a couple of them, perhaps they are UFOs until I pick them up and start working on them again.
I'm rather glad of this renewed energy. The To Do list never seems to get any shorter, and I suspect this is subconsciously deliberate on my part as I'm always happiest with lots to do. #NeverBored!
S spoiled me rotten, giving me her old mobile so that I now have a working mobile phone again (not only that, but a smart phone too!). And, as we did occasionally when she lived down this end of the country before she became ill, we decided to have a spa afternoon. After scouting around, she decided we should go a little further afield and booked a couple of packages at the Celtic Manor.
We arrived only a couple of minutes late. S had been directed to the underground parking, where disabled spots were available near the entrance door to the spa level. They may have been close to the door, but weren't wide enough to allow easy access (such as opening the car door all the way to get the walker out easily, or space to use it past other parked cars!) and the parking charges were rather a rude shock as well. The light lunch was nice, although the lobby level which contained the bars and restaurants was a maze of changes of level, not ideal for someone using a walker. Good job we didn't take the wheelchair! There was a way through without steps up and down, but it wasn't obvious. The facial and back massage were utter bliss; the pool, crowded with kids and parents at half term, rather less so. The communal spa pool/jacuzzi was really not accessible unless you could manage a large step up and the pool surrounds were rather slippery. Even the women-only jacuzzi was not easy to step up and down into and rather noisy, as one of the jets was really strong and gushed water up the corner of the pool. Not what I would expect from a 5 star hotel, and I think our old haunt at The Cliff in Gwbert does it better, feeling much more like a sanctuary, and with heated loungers too!
My drive to Pengam took longer than the couple of hours suggested by the AA, causing S some consternation that we would be late for our spa date. However, my drive home took even longer. Not only was I in my usual 'where on earth am I?' mode, trying to drive and navigate in a strange place in the dark, but having successfully got back onto the Heads of the Valleys road and settled into its groove with 21 miles to Neath, I found the road closed with a diversion taking us down the A470 onto the M4. It seemed to go on forever, taking me past signs which pointed to places close to where I'd started from, a good 3/4 hour previously. Once on the M4, the first sign I saw announced that Neath was 30 miles away. Not that there were many work-arounds for that road closure, but the Maps app on the phone will come in useful, as it will act as a satnav for those occasions where I had previously followed my nose and continued in ever decreasing circles until I found my destination.
I got home to find the cats a little clingy after my night away from them (the first since we moved) but none the worse for having been shut in for a couple of days. The next morning, far from feeling fresh from my spa treat and break, I felt tired out, my knees painful from the driving. I spent much of that day just sitting, knitting, binge watching Strictly It Takes 2 to catch up before the weekend's shows. I started a pair of socks to test out my 'everyday socks' pattern just before going away, and finished them on my rest day (so must write up that pattern!).
The day's rest was just what I needed, and since then I have been steadily reducing the laundry pile, doing a first read-through of a friend's novella (a compelling read, must send the notes back!), which prompted me to blog a little (because I've hardly written anything this year!), applying for a couple of jobs, getting a new sim for the phone and my old number ported over, and generally trying to learn how to use it without my head exploding. In a couple of months, it will probably become a natural part of my everyday existence to the extent where not having it will feel like I'm missing a limb, or something.
Having started to knit again, I was rummaging through my stash of yarns for some sock yarn I thought I'd bought, in order to test out my everyday socks pattern in a smaller size than my hefty, wide feet and ankles. I didn't find it, probably because I thought I had better finish some WIPs before I indulged in more yarn or started another project. I found some other yarn I'd been looking for and, yes, more WIPs, although since they'd been packed away since I moved and I'd forgotten about a couple of them, perhaps they are UFOs until I pick them up and start working on them again.
I'm rather glad of this renewed energy. The To Do list never seems to get any shorter, and I suspect this is subconsciously deliberate on my part as I'm always happiest with lots to do. #NeverBored!
Saturday, 28 November 2015
Not Meant To Be
I'm something of a believer in whether things are meant to be, or not. Whether you attribute it to the mysterious movings of the universe, serendipity, coincidence, fate, karma, predestiny, messages from God or the angels, there are times when you get the feeling that things are conspiring against a course of action. Then you have a choice; fight on and try to make it happen, or accept that some things are not meant to be. Of course, you may not believe in this and consider it a defeatist attitude, that you can make anything happen and do anything if you want it badly enough. I agree that some things are worth giving your all, but some are not. Pick your battles!
Last week I planned to treat myself to a somatics workshop. It's so long since I went up to Penpynfarch and I live even further away now, but the application of what I've learned in previous workshops has shown some subtle but positive results, both in dance and in managing the osteoarthritis.
Knowing I would hit the local rush hour, I gave myself an extra half an hour on the journey time suggested by the AA. The weather forecast was not good; Barney, the second of the Met Office/Met Eireann named storms was due. It would make for a horrible journey home, with a yellow warning for high winds starting from mid afternoon, but I reckoned if I stuck to main roads once out of Llandysul, it would be okay.
I set off on time and had only gone a couple of miles when I joined a queue of traffic into Haverfordwest. It took me all of my spare half hour to get past the town (normally a ten minute drive!), with red lights all the way. It was pouring with rain, blustery wind dumping bucketfuls onto the windscreens and roads. Drivers sensibly slowed down, but I got to a point on a road without a good place to overtake where I was behind a laden cattle truck grinding away at 20 miles an hour. Each time we came to a junction, I was muttering 'please turn off', but no, it looked like it was going my way. I could see a tailback in my rear view mirror, and I bet those drivers were muttering something too.
By the time I had been driving for over an hour and a half, I had made 25 miles - half way - and had a splitting headache. I stopped at a garage for a toilet break and a drink of water. If I carried on in this worsening weather, I would get there in time for lunch, but feel compelled to set off early to avoid the worst of the weather. And I would hardly be able to move after driving for so long. Feeling like a complete and utter wimp, I decided to turn around and go back. Back up over the Preselis, through a pea-soup of low cloud and lashing rain. The cattle grid at Bwlch Gwynt was underwater, and the rain ran in rivulets down the roads to pool in the dips.
It took me nearly an hour and a half to get back home, too; a round trip of 50 plus miles in 3 hours. Knees stiff from driving, I dragged myself upstairs to email an apology, then into the kitchen to make a vegetable and bean stew, one of my ideal winter comfort foods.
I was waiting for a call to let me know the results of a job interview the previous day, but didn't get the call until a week later. It was a 'no', but at least they called with feedback, reinforcing my feeling that they would have been a good company to work for. Another thing that wasn't meant to be.
As I was writing this, I checked my email for a reply to another application, which seemed to be taking a long time. Sure enough, I had an email at last ... and it was a 'no'. It left me wondering what it takes, since I was sure I'd effectively ticked every skill and attribute in the job and personnel description. I can only hope that the two friends I know who were after the same job at least get an interview.
I've been pouring energy into trying to find employment, searching job sites, updating CVs, sending applications, reading around companies and skills in preparation for interviews which hardly ever happen. At a time when class numbers and commitment are low, and nobody seems to have money for anything which they consider non-essential (including proofreading!) I had hoped that employment would give me some money and security. Perhaps that's not meant to be.
Time to look again at my Plan B, and see what it would take to make it (or something like it) work. It will probably be a case of fighting to make it happen, but I would like to think that this time next year, things will be different.
Last week I planned to treat myself to a somatics workshop. It's so long since I went up to Penpynfarch and I live even further away now, but the application of what I've learned in previous workshops has shown some subtle but positive results, both in dance and in managing the osteoarthritis.
Knowing I would hit the local rush hour, I gave myself an extra half an hour on the journey time suggested by the AA. The weather forecast was not good; Barney, the second of the Met Office/Met Eireann named storms was due. It would make for a horrible journey home, with a yellow warning for high winds starting from mid afternoon, but I reckoned if I stuck to main roads once out of Llandysul, it would be okay.
I set off on time and had only gone a couple of miles when I joined a queue of traffic into Haverfordwest. It took me all of my spare half hour to get past the town (normally a ten minute drive!), with red lights all the way. It was pouring with rain, blustery wind dumping bucketfuls onto the windscreens and roads. Drivers sensibly slowed down, but I got to a point on a road without a good place to overtake where I was behind a laden cattle truck grinding away at 20 miles an hour. Each time we came to a junction, I was muttering 'please turn off', but no, it looked like it was going my way. I could see a tailback in my rear view mirror, and I bet those drivers were muttering something too.
By the time I had been driving for over an hour and a half, I had made 25 miles - half way - and had a splitting headache. I stopped at a garage for a toilet break and a drink of water. If I carried on in this worsening weather, I would get there in time for lunch, but feel compelled to set off early to avoid the worst of the weather. And I would hardly be able to move after driving for so long. Feeling like a complete and utter wimp, I decided to turn around and go back. Back up over the Preselis, through a pea-soup of low cloud and lashing rain. The cattle grid at Bwlch Gwynt was underwater, and the rain ran in rivulets down the roads to pool in the dips.
It took me nearly an hour and a half to get back home, too; a round trip of 50 plus miles in 3 hours. Knees stiff from driving, I dragged myself upstairs to email an apology, then into the kitchen to make a vegetable and bean stew, one of my ideal winter comfort foods.
I was waiting for a call to let me know the results of a job interview the previous day, but didn't get the call until a week later. It was a 'no', but at least they called with feedback, reinforcing my feeling that they would have been a good company to work for. Another thing that wasn't meant to be.
As I was writing this, I checked my email for a reply to another application, which seemed to be taking a long time. Sure enough, I had an email at last ... and it was a 'no'. It left me wondering what it takes, since I was sure I'd effectively ticked every skill and attribute in the job and personnel description. I can only hope that the two friends I know who were after the same job at least get an interview.
I've been pouring energy into trying to find employment, searching job sites, updating CVs, sending applications, reading around companies and skills in preparation for interviews which hardly ever happen. At a time when class numbers and commitment are low, and nobody seems to have money for anything which they consider non-essential (including proofreading!) I had hoped that employment would give me some money and security. Perhaps that's not meant to be.
Time to look again at my Plan B, and see what it would take to make it (or something like it) work. It will probably be a case of fighting to make it happen, but I would like to think that this time next year, things will be different.
Tuesday, 14 July 2015
80-20
For over a month now, I have awoken every day determined to finish getting the kitchen in order; all the cupboards cleaned, all the various kitchen paraphernalia unpacked, washed, dried and put away. And every day I get a little more done, a little nearer my goal, but I haven't finished yet. I do a bit in each of the rooms too, and delight in my daily gardening fix, even if it's only to pull up a few weeds to add to the compost bin with the previous day's kitchen waste. Daily chores in the form of general cleaning (even the most cursory swipe around with the vacuum every couple of days leaves it half full of cat hair, which is being shed by the handful), laundry and shopping all take time, as well as dealing with paperwork, organising quotes for maintenance work and various other issues, such as new items delivered damaged and needing replacement (grrr!). I'm busy, and there is a steady outflow of boxes (which are removed with the weekly recycling, hurrah!) and am still not really making a difference. As far as the kitchen goes, I'm in the last 20% - which, according to the 80-20 rule, takes 80% of the time.
So it was with some sense of despair at myself and profuse apologies for the mess that I welcomed Ursula to the chaos that is cat-hair central, aka my new home, last week. It seemed incredible that it's been eleven months since she stayed with me on her way down to Tenby and then north again as she walked the Cistercian Way. For various good reasons, she didn't complete her 3000 miles last year, and it is going to be 3500 or perhaps more by the time she finishes this year. She's currently on her second loop around the Pembrokeshire Coast Path and recently passed the 3000 mile mark, so she is also in the last 20%.
She had been staying with one of my friends for some of the northern section of the coast path and had been able to leave her rucksack and manage with a borrowed day sack for a few days, to lighten the load. My friend then dropped the rucksack off with me. I'd previously commented to her that I felt for Ursula, coming from the relative peace of my friend's place to my chaos, and was assured that I had entirely the wrong idea of how orderly her place was, which was reassuring. Shortly before 7.00 pm, I wound my way to Dale to pick up Ursula, who was feeling quite justifiably tired after a 21-mile day. Dale is only 12.5 miles/20 km by road from here but takes at least half an hour, more if you meet a lot of traffic. The road is frequently not wide enough for two cars to pass easily, and well-used, as there is no grass growing in the middle anywhere on it!
I was planning to give Ursula my bed for the couple of nights she'd be with me, so that she could stretch and luxuriate, but she wouldn't hear of it, choosing a hastily-cleared single bed in the stack that is bedroom 2, just grateful for somewhere inside in relative comfort with a bathroom.
We had an early night ready for an early-ish start the next day, hoping that it would still be early enough for Ursula to be able to cross tidal inlets without a long walk round. The worst on the stretch west to east between Dale and Milford Haven is at Sandy Haven, which is only really accessible for 2.5 hours either side of low tide and outside of that, results in a four mile detour. The suggestion is to set off from Dale at a time which gets you to the first crossing (Pickleridge/The Gann) as it becomes clear, a couple of hours before low tide, in the hope that you get to Sandy Haven before the tide rises over the crossing there. Unfortunately, if low tide's very early in the morning, and the following low is late afternoon, as was the case, it's really not possible unless you do some of the walking at night. So Ursula had to detour and got to Milford late in the afternoon. It set me wondering: if the Pembrokeshire Coast Path is 186 miles, does that exclude detours? So could it be 190, or 200, or something, depending how often you have to go around rather than across a beach? (If you're planning to walk the Pembrokeshire Coast Path, you can plan your route here and check 2015 tide times here.)
In her blog, she describes herself as 'a fat woman'. Last year she commented (as I plied her with Danish pastries for breakfast) that she'd changed shape rather than lost weight. It's true that you might expect someone who has been walking long distances on a daily basis not to have a spare inch of flesh, but I think under the feminine curves, she's pure muscle with a core of steely willpower, full of stamina and resilience, with the physical and mental strength to push through the pain and keep walking, day after day, in all sorts of weather.
So if she can complete this incredible feat of endurance (and she will!) then I can reach my goals too. Ursula's brief visit left me encouraged and motivated to get the kitchen and the rest of the house in order. And go and enjoy the beautiful Pembrokeshire coast, now that I live nearer. And, while my knees aren't too bad at the moment, perhaps even do a little walking. (Steady on, now!) The question is, can I do it before she finishes her walk?
I dropped her at Milford Haven the next morning and she had disappeared before I'd even driven out of the car park. The plan was to meet her at the Cleddau Bridge and hand over her rucksack (which she was leaving with someone in Pembroke Dock to follow her to her next overnight stop in Angle). It seemed to take longer to get around through Neyland, but when I saw her, sunburnt under her tan, she was powering along. Hoping I wasn't being a complete pain, I wanted to walk to the centre of the bridge with her and take a picture of us, before we said goodbye. So I scampered along behind her, two of my steps to every one of hers and even then, scarcely keeping up, until we reached what we thought was the middle. I took a photo, but I look really terrible, so asked Ursula if I could take one of her retreating back.
There she goes, striding off into the distant heat haze, leaving miles of landscape and inspired people behind her. Despite the slow start, she made it all the way to Angle - a 23-mile day! As I write this a few days later, I see she has finished the Pembrokeshire Coast Path and is now en route to Cardiff!
You can read about her journey and more, including how to make donations, on her website.
So it was with some sense of despair at myself and profuse apologies for the mess that I welcomed Ursula to the chaos that is cat-hair central, aka my new home, last week. It seemed incredible that it's been eleven months since she stayed with me on her way down to Tenby and then north again as she walked the Cistercian Way. For various good reasons, she didn't complete her 3000 miles last year, and it is going to be 3500 or perhaps more by the time she finishes this year. She's currently on her second loop around the Pembrokeshire Coast Path and recently passed the 3000 mile mark, so she is also in the last 20%.
She had been staying with one of my friends for some of the northern section of the coast path and had been able to leave her rucksack and manage with a borrowed day sack for a few days, to lighten the load. My friend then dropped the rucksack off with me. I'd previously commented to her that I felt for Ursula, coming from the relative peace of my friend's place to my chaos, and was assured that I had entirely the wrong idea of how orderly her place was, which was reassuring. Shortly before 7.00 pm, I wound my way to Dale to pick up Ursula, who was feeling quite justifiably tired after a 21-mile day. Dale is only 12.5 miles/20 km by road from here but takes at least half an hour, more if you meet a lot of traffic. The road is frequently not wide enough for two cars to pass easily, and well-used, as there is no grass growing in the middle anywhere on it!
I was planning to give Ursula my bed for the couple of nights she'd be with me, so that she could stretch and luxuriate, but she wouldn't hear of it, choosing a hastily-cleared single bed in the stack that is bedroom 2, just grateful for somewhere inside in relative comfort with a bathroom.
We had an early night ready for an early-ish start the next day, hoping that it would still be early enough for Ursula to be able to cross tidal inlets without a long walk round. The worst on the stretch west to east between Dale and Milford Haven is at Sandy Haven, which is only really accessible for 2.5 hours either side of low tide and outside of that, results in a four mile detour. The suggestion is to set off from Dale at a time which gets you to the first crossing (Pickleridge/The Gann) as it becomes clear, a couple of hours before low tide, in the hope that you get to Sandy Haven before the tide rises over the crossing there. Unfortunately, if low tide's very early in the morning, and the following low is late afternoon, as was the case, it's really not possible unless you do some of the walking at night. So Ursula had to detour and got to Milford late in the afternoon. It set me wondering: if the Pembrokeshire Coast Path is 186 miles, does that exclude detours? So could it be 190, or 200, or something, depending how often you have to go around rather than across a beach? (If you're planning to walk the Pembrokeshire Coast Path, you can plan your route here and check 2015 tide times here.)
In her blog, she describes herself as 'a fat woman'. Last year she commented (as I plied her with Danish pastries for breakfast) that she'd changed shape rather than lost weight. It's true that you might expect someone who has been walking long distances on a daily basis not to have a spare inch of flesh, but I think under the feminine curves, she's pure muscle with a core of steely willpower, full of stamina and resilience, with the physical and mental strength to push through the pain and keep walking, day after day, in all sorts of weather.
So if she can complete this incredible feat of endurance (and she will!) then I can reach my goals too. Ursula's brief visit left me encouraged and motivated to get the kitchen and the rest of the house in order. And go and enjoy the beautiful Pembrokeshire coast, now that I live nearer. And, while my knees aren't too bad at the moment, perhaps even do a little walking. (Steady on, now!) The question is, can I do it before she finishes her walk?
I dropped her at Milford Haven the next morning and she had disappeared before I'd even driven out of the car park. The plan was to meet her at the Cleddau Bridge and hand over her rucksack (which she was leaving with someone in Pembroke Dock to follow her to her next overnight stop in Angle). It seemed to take longer to get around through Neyland, but when I saw her, sunburnt under her tan, she was powering along. Hoping I wasn't being a complete pain, I wanted to walk to the centre of the bridge with her and take a picture of us, before we said goodbye. So I scampered along behind her, two of my steps to every one of hers and even then, scarcely keeping up, until we reached what we thought was the middle. I took a photo, but I look really terrible, so asked Ursula if I could take one of her retreating back. There she goes, striding off into the distant heat haze, leaving miles of landscape and inspired people behind her. Despite the slow start, she made it all the way to Angle - a 23-mile day! As I write this a few days later, I see she has finished the Pembrokeshire Coast Path and is now en route to Cardiff!
You can read about her journey and more, including how to make donations, on her website.
Thursday, 18 June 2015
Scary Stuff
A friend recently posted on Facebook a picture of a load of badges/stickers with a message to the effect that it was a shame that as adults, we don't get 'well done' stickers and gold stars for all the things we successfully do or even just cope with. Now we're grown up, we are expected to take everything in our stride. Mostly, and with some help from partners and friends, we do. Well, you have to. It's either that, or have a nervous breakdown.
In the past month, I have (more or less in this order) been:
I have so much stash and just stuff in general that I have also had to do a few trips back to the farm to pick up more (and return some of S's things, having sorted them out), and the last of it is coming with the lovely Easi Move removals chaps tomorrow, including the heavy garden pots.
At the moment it feels like I've jumped out of the frying pan into the fire - I've changed location but the chaotic mess is the same. Still, I vowed to get organised and I am determined that it will all come together, preferably sooner rather than later.
I think I deserve at least one gold star.
In the past month, I have (more or less in this order) been:
- cleaning, sorting and packing
- tried to save one of my two remaining hens who had a prolapse (but she died)
- exchanged contracts
- had a recall after a recent mammogram, driven down to Swansea, had a biopsy after which I was told not to go lifting heavy boxes for a few days (in the middle of a house move, for goodness' sake! And in fact, I was much too sore anyway, and had to take a breather on my drive home)
- spent my few days 'taking it easy' by organising the utilities (it takes hours!)
- completed contracts
- moved a few things into the house and repainted my office here
- received the good news that I had a (benign) fibroadenoma which didn't need further surgery,
- moved my last hen to join a friends little flock, (they manage their 'pet' hens in exactly the same way as I did, so I hope she'll be be happy there!)
- renewed my DBS certificate
- done more packing and organising
- booked the cats into a cattery to keep them safe for a few days
- moved house with a removals firm helping with the packing and providing much needed muscle, since I was behind on my original plan and still somewhat sore, and cannot carry loads like I used to
- took delivery of my new washing machine, freezer and fridge, familiarised myself with them and also how to work the dishwasher, heating, hot water, shower, ovens and hob
- went to a great belly dance training weekend
- picked the cats up from the cattery, introduced them to their new home and sat cuddling them, all of us in some sort of shock
- chased up and set up my new house phone
- set up the compost bins and found out the bin days and recycling routine
- litter-picked the patio and garden (some bits of broken bottle and lots of bottle caps, the aftermath of the previous resident's leaving party)
- then, a steady stream of trying to create a place for everything, more cleaning, unpacking and sorting from boxes, and trying to find things (seriously - it took me four days to find my mobile charger and a fortnight to find the box with essentials like the can opener, because it wasn't labelled and I wasn't the one who packed it!
- punctuated by text processing exams
- teaching a few dance classes
- cleaning and setting up the rotary line (temporarily, while I decide its permanent spot in the garden),
- doing laundry
- cleaning up after the cats' 'accidents' while they are supposed to be using their litter trays,
- more organising utilities
- set up the router/hub, chasing down issues to make it work with my old PC (solved by buying a 15 metre Ethernet cable and running it down the stair well, held against the ceiling with white tack!),
- starting the long process of letting all and sundry know my new address, and just trying to get back to some sort of normal (or establish a new 'normal') as soon as possible.
I have so much stash and just stuff in general that I have also had to do a few trips back to the farm to pick up more (and return some of S's things, having sorted them out), and the last of it is coming with the lovely Easi Move removals chaps tomorrow, including the heavy garden pots.
At the moment it feels like I've jumped out of the frying pan into the fire - I've changed location but the chaotic mess is the same. Still, I vowed to get organised and I am determined that it will all come together, preferably sooner rather than later.
I think I deserve at least one gold star.
Friday, 8 May 2015
A Little Overwhelmed
Is it possible to feel only a little overwhelmed? Doesn't the word imply being entirely overcome, utterly submerged?
The process of separating my things, bringing them in from store, cleaning, sorting and repacking is proving slow, frustrating and horribly dirty. Sorting out stuff inside the cottage is not much better, although thankfully cleaner. I can feel myself teetering on the brink of despair but refuse to feel completely defeated by this seemingly enormous task. Despite tackling it a bit at a time, it's difficult to be very systematic because of the random way in which things were put into store. (I should add, by someone else while I was out at work!) For example, vases; three different sources so far, and I think I may still be missing one. I've found candles, tealights and candleholders in four different boxes so far, and still have not come across the snuffer which should have been packed with the advent candleholder. There are currently boxes everywhere, as I try to find things, get them clean and pack like with like. I've become so cross with myself for not being able to find, for example, my jewellery tools (I'm sure it's not that long since I used them, they must be here somewhere, dammit!), that I have vowed never again to let things become so chaotic. In the meantime, I have other things to do too, not to mention the pile of laundry which is growing faster than I can get it washed and dried (mainly because I need a bath and a change of clothes when I've been rummaging around in the storage area in the back of the barn, and now that it's May, it keeps raining!).
People have been very helpful, finding packing boxes and making suggestions. A friend suggested I just pick out my things and repack straight away, leaving the cleaning and sorting until I'm putting away in the new place. That would probably be okay if things were just a bit dusty, but some things really are filthy. When I retrieved the rest of the mugs, one had a dessicated, headless mouse in it, presumably dropped and forgotten about by one of the owls. The muck stays here; besides which, I know I won't have the energy or inclination after the move.
A rather ruthless acquaintance pointed out that if everything was so filthy, and considering that I hadn't used any of this stuff in five years, I obviously didn't need it, so why didn't I just throw out the lot, or have a massive bonfire? And the simple answer is, because it would be wasteful, and there are some things in store which I have missed and felt too overwhelmed, or in too much pain to want to fight my way into the back of the silage shed, to search for until now. All my books on dance, old photos, a wooden kitchen tray, my honey drizzler ... even the Christmas decorations, unused for the past few years. I don't have the money to get rid and just treat myself to new whatever I find I need or miss.
Some people are minimalists, others have no choice, but most people accumulate things they don't strictly need, but keep just for the sake of interest, decoration, sentiment or convenience. If you have a grill, you don't, strictly speaking, need a toaster. You can chop herbs and garlic with a chef's knife, but I love my mezzaluna. My cherry/olive stoner gets quite a lot of use, too. I like detail and find minimalist environments sterile and unsettling, distressing rather than de-stressing. Of course I could declutter more and no doubt will in future, but at the moment I take a load to the recycling, and a bag of items to the charity shop (trying not to bring anything back!) every couple of weeks, and constantly surprise myself by what I'm letting go. Bye-bye ice skates, the spare set of kitchen scales, the third teapot, my old jazz shoes.
So, no extreme decluttering for me. It always seems so cruel; I've seen advice to parents that they impose a 'one in, one out' rule for their children's toys! "You can only have a new toy if you part with one." feels like some sort of emotional blackmail, although I suppose some children have more toys than they know what to do with (and that's hardly their fault, now, is it?). As for the decluttering techniques which use disaster scenarios and questions such as "You have to flee for your life/your house is flooding/on fire, what do you save? What would you miss most and have to replace?", they fill me with sorrow for those who are actually living the nightmares, and gratitude for my abundant blessings.
It's easy to find lots of tips online if you're into that sort of decluttering, but I'm really enjoying reading articles from Apartment Therapy. (No, they aren't paying me anything for the mention, unfortunately!) They seem to take a more balanced, sympathetic, realistic view of things and there are lots of useful tips and life hacks, as well as practical interior design ideas.
I've just heard that the local searches are back at last, although it will be another day or two before I receive the report in the post. It's a bit too tight now to move in mid-May, but sometime from the third week of May to early June may still be feasible.
Oh help. I really need to get cracking with the packing
The process of separating my things, bringing them in from store, cleaning, sorting and repacking is proving slow, frustrating and horribly dirty. Sorting out stuff inside the cottage is not much better, although thankfully cleaner. I can feel myself teetering on the brink of despair but refuse to feel completely defeated by this seemingly enormous task. Despite tackling it a bit at a time, it's difficult to be very systematic because of the random way in which things were put into store. (I should add, by someone else while I was out at work!) For example, vases; three different sources so far, and I think I may still be missing one. I've found candles, tealights and candleholders in four different boxes so far, and still have not come across the snuffer which should have been packed with the advent candleholder. There are currently boxes everywhere, as I try to find things, get them clean and pack like with like. I've become so cross with myself for not being able to find, for example, my jewellery tools (I'm sure it's not that long since I used them, they must be here somewhere, dammit!), that I have vowed never again to let things become so chaotic. In the meantime, I have other things to do too, not to mention the pile of laundry which is growing faster than I can get it washed and dried (mainly because I need a bath and a change of clothes when I've been rummaging around in the storage area in the back of the barn, and now that it's May, it keeps raining!).
People have been very helpful, finding packing boxes and making suggestions. A friend suggested I just pick out my things and repack straight away, leaving the cleaning and sorting until I'm putting away in the new place. That would probably be okay if things were just a bit dusty, but some things really are filthy. When I retrieved the rest of the mugs, one had a dessicated, headless mouse in it, presumably dropped and forgotten about by one of the owls. The muck stays here; besides which, I know I won't have the energy or inclination after the move.
A rather ruthless acquaintance pointed out that if everything was so filthy, and considering that I hadn't used any of this stuff in five years, I obviously didn't need it, so why didn't I just throw out the lot, or have a massive bonfire? And the simple answer is, because it would be wasteful, and there are some things in store which I have missed and felt too overwhelmed, or in too much pain to want to fight my way into the back of the silage shed, to search for until now. All my books on dance, old photos, a wooden kitchen tray, my honey drizzler ... even the Christmas decorations, unused for the past few years. I don't have the money to get rid and just treat myself to new whatever I find I need or miss.
Some people are minimalists, others have no choice, but most people accumulate things they don't strictly need, but keep just for the sake of interest, decoration, sentiment or convenience. If you have a grill, you don't, strictly speaking, need a toaster. You can chop herbs and garlic with a chef's knife, but I love my mezzaluna. My cherry/olive stoner gets quite a lot of use, too. I like detail and find minimalist environments sterile and unsettling, distressing rather than de-stressing. Of course I could declutter more and no doubt will in future, but at the moment I take a load to the recycling, and a bag of items to the charity shop (trying not to bring anything back!) every couple of weeks, and constantly surprise myself by what I'm letting go. Bye-bye ice skates, the spare set of kitchen scales, the third teapot, my old jazz shoes.
So, no extreme decluttering for me. It always seems so cruel; I've seen advice to parents that they impose a 'one in, one out' rule for their children's toys! "You can only have a new toy if you part with one." feels like some sort of emotional blackmail, although I suppose some children have more toys than they know what to do with (and that's hardly their fault, now, is it?). As for the decluttering techniques which use disaster scenarios and questions such as "You have to flee for your life/your house is flooding/on fire, what do you save? What would you miss most and have to replace?", they fill me with sorrow for those who are actually living the nightmares, and gratitude for my abundant blessings.
It's easy to find lots of tips online if you're into that sort of decluttering, but I'm really enjoying reading articles from Apartment Therapy. (No, they aren't paying me anything for the mention, unfortunately!) They seem to take a more balanced, sympathetic, realistic view of things and there are lots of useful tips and life hacks, as well as practical interior design ideas.
I've just heard that the local searches are back at last, although it will be another day or two before I receive the report in the post. It's a bit too tight now to move in mid-May, but sometime from the third week of May to early June may still be feasible.
Oh help. I really need to get cracking with the packing
Thursday, 10 April 2014
Chaos Theory
Yesterday started badly; my right knee osteoarthritis still in flare,
left knee stiffer than usual, feet painful, a twinge and slight swelling in one ankle where
it had 'clicked' the other day as I put the hens away, and sciatica. As I
leaned on my walking stick, I realised I also had delayed-onset muscle
soreness from dancing with fan veils on Monday night, and my arms and
upper torso muscles were complaining (because you skimped on your cool-down, tut tut!). It was no better after the morning physio exercises and a hot bath, and it was all I could do to get out of the house to go to the first session of a course I'd signed on for.
Painkillers throughout the day seemed to make very little difference. Although I was comfortable when sitting down, standing up was agony. I awarded myself several brownie points for going to the recycling centre and emptying my box (including a few points for putting the box in the car as I clattered out that morning). I would have loved to go for a swim after the course, but by then it was too late to go to any public sessions, which stop late afternoon and restart in the evening, in time to clash with the class I was going to teach. Cue more painkillers, icing gel, knee support and a warm up to help things along.
After class, I demonstrated a couple of exercises and had a bit of a roll around on the underfloor-heated floor at the community learning centre. I came home knackered, drank half a litre of water, did a quick flower and a crochet block centre, and slept for six hours straight. (I've only been managing three before waking recently, so that was a big improvement!)
I got out of bed this morning and noticed how much better my knees were. Wow! I remembered having the same effect after contemporary class last autumn. There must be some link between easing the tension in the back muscles and the stretch in the quads and IT band that I get from the rolling, twisting moves on the floor, and the pain in my knees. Rolling around seems to release something. I should do it more often, even though it only offers a few hours of relief.
There's a problem with that. This cottage is pretty small and, at the moment, completely and chaotically untidy. I had to have words with myself last weekend about the state of it. I don't mind untidy, but I dislike dirty and I've been letting things slide (again). I started the week promising myself that I would do at least an hour a day of cleaning, decluttering, tidying (excluding dealing with the hens and cats), even if it was in microbursts of a few minutes at a time. It has been hard going, not because there's not plenty to do, but where to start when you want jobs which you can break down into small chunks without leaving even more chaos until they're completed? In need of some inspiration and motivation, I had a quick search on achieving a clean and tidy home.
I was intrigued by The Flylady. Are you living in CHAOS (Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome)? Yes, that's me! So I read on, to find a step-by-step plan starting with Shine Your Sink. Sorry, but no. It's an old, scratched sink. I don't think it's possible to get it to shine like a new stainless steel sink and I am not going to try, let alone do it on a daily basis before I go to bed. Step two, get fully dressed in the morning, right down to lace-up shoes and if you don't wear shoes in the house, buy some just for that purpose. No. I do get dressed (although I have pottered around to the barn in my pyjamas and gown to let the hens out a couple of times) but I draw the line at wearing shoes all day, every day. Create a control journal, sign up for emails, remind yourself by putting Post-it notes on the bathroom mirror, set a bed time, put out your clothes for the next day ... hey, whatever works for you, but for me - no, no, no, no, no. She's right about the paralysis brought about by negative self-talk, that getting into a state didn't happen overnight, so it will take time to clean and get organised again, the need for some self-discipline, and I like that FLY is an acronym for Finally Loving Yourself. However, this and a couple of other blogs I saw are centred around family life. If I had a family to organise, I would do things differently. I could still do things differently, but I can please myself.
There's no real mystery to being clean and organised about the house. It just takes motivation, time management, consistency, some cleaning products and a place for everything so you can put everything in its place. In terms of starting conditions, the latter is fundamental and something I don't have, but am working on.
I was feeling pretty bright as I got dressed, let the hens out, fed the cats, had breakfast, dealt with laundry (one load up to dry, next load sorted and in, last load folded), paid the bills, did the washing up, tidied a few things, made the bed, threw out old receipts, did some filing, vacuuming ... and realised how badly the constant pain and fatigue affects me on a daily basis. With only low-level pain and without painkillers, this morning I realised what my other fundamental starting condition is; a lack of pain and fatigue.
As I washed up, I looked out at the garden, a stalled project from last year, and thought about doing something out there. Working in the limited space with limited access and where everything seems to need moving and depends on something else being moved first is like trying to do one of those sliding block puzzles. I was never very good at them. It's a bit like that inside the cottage too. Where to start? Perhaps with some bramble bashing while I tried to figure out the next move. Moving the ferns needs to be done soon, before their fronds grow and unfurl. Fibonacci spirals opening to the self-similar, iterative patterns of natural fractals.
Still tickled by the CHAOS acronym, I mused about sensitivity to initial conditions, complexity and fractals and started thinking about Chaos Theory. Chaos is usually defined as a state of disorder. Chaos Theory, on the other hand, is not really about disorder, but about the way in which complex systems are affected by initial conditions and external influences, such that small and seemingly insignificant differences can result in widely varying, apparently unpredictable and random outcomes. (This is just as I understand it, which is to say, not very well. If you're a scientist/physicist/mathematician, please feel free to comment and correct me!). The more complex, the greater the number of influences, the more unpredictable the outcomes. But there's often a natural balance, just enough predictability, an underlying order, so that predictable patterns emerge within things which appear to be random and unpredictable.
Perhaps Chaos Theory applies here. Depending on starting conditions and various influences, (like how much I'm out, how bad my knees are, how creative I'm feeling, how long before I run out of energy, whether the sun is shining or it's pouring with rain, possibly even what colour T shirt I'm wearing ...), repeating patterns and pockets of order appear in the apparently random disorder. Neither completely ordered nor disordered, it's the edge of chaos, requiring flexibility and adaptability, and generating creative inspiration.
Spirals, leaves and flowers, randomness and patches of order ... yes, freeform crochet would be the solution for my flower garden scarf.
[If you've read this far, thank you for sticking with me during this blog equivalent of thinking out loud!]
Painkillers throughout the day seemed to make very little difference. Although I was comfortable when sitting down, standing up was agony. I awarded myself several brownie points for going to the recycling centre and emptying my box (including a few points for putting the box in the car as I clattered out that morning). I would have loved to go for a swim after the course, but by then it was too late to go to any public sessions, which stop late afternoon and restart in the evening, in time to clash with the class I was going to teach. Cue more painkillers, icing gel, knee support and a warm up to help things along.
After class, I demonstrated a couple of exercises and had a bit of a roll around on the underfloor-heated floor at the community learning centre. I came home knackered, drank half a litre of water, did a quick flower and a crochet block centre, and slept for six hours straight. (I've only been managing three before waking recently, so that was a big improvement!)
I got out of bed this morning and noticed how much better my knees were. Wow! I remembered having the same effect after contemporary class last autumn. There must be some link between easing the tension in the back muscles and the stretch in the quads and IT band that I get from the rolling, twisting moves on the floor, and the pain in my knees. Rolling around seems to release something. I should do it more often, even though it only offers a few hours of relief.
There's a problem with that. This cottage is pretty small and, at the moment, completely and chaotically untidy. I had to have words with myself last weekend about the state of it. I don't mind untidy, but I dislike dirty and I've been letting things slide (again). I started the week promising myself that I would do at least an hour a day of cleaning, decluttering, tidying (excluding dealing with the hens and cats), even if it was in microbursts of a few minutes at a time. It has been hard going, not because there's not plenty to do, but where to start when you want jobs which you can break down into small chunks without leaving even more chaos until they're completed? In need of some inspiration and motivation, I had a quick search on achieving a clean and tidy home.
I was intrigued by The Flylady. Are you living in CHAOS (Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome)? Yes, that's me! So I read on, to find a step-by-step plan starting with Shine Your Sink. Sorry, but no. It's an old, scratched sink. I don't think it's possible to get it to shine like a new stainless steel sink and I am not going to try, let alone do it on a daily basis before I go to bed. Step two, get fully dressed in the morning, right down to lace-up shoes and if you don't wear shoes in the house, buy some just for that purpose. No. I do get dressed (although I have pottered around to the barn in my pyjamas and gown to let the hens out a couple of times) but I draw the line at wearing shoes all day, every day. Create a control journal, sign up for emails, remind yourself by putting Post-it notes on the bathroom mirror, set a bed time, put out your clothes for the next day ... hey, whatever works for you, but for me - no, no, no, no, no. She's right about the paralysis brought about by negative self-talk, that getting into a state didn't happen overnight, so it will take time to clean and get organised again, the need for some self-discipline, and I like that FLY is an acronym for Finally Loving Yourself. However, this and a couple of other blogs I saw are centred around family life. If I had a family to organise, I would do things differently. I could still do things differently, but I can please myself.
There's no real mystery to being clean and organised about the house. It just takes motivation, time management, consistency, some cleaning products and a place for everything so you can put everything in its place. In terms of starting conditions, the latter is fundamental and something I don't have, but am working on.
I was feeling pretty bright as I got dressed, let the hens out, fed the cats, had breakfast, dealt with laundry (one load up to dry, next load sorted and in, last load folded), paid the bills, did the washing up, tidied a few things, made the bed, threw out old receipts, did some filing, vacuuming ... and realised how badly the constant pain and fatigue affects me on a daily basis. With only low-level pain and without painkillers, this morning I realised what my other fundamental starting condition is; a lack of pain and fatigue.
As I washed up, I looked out at the garden, a stalled project from last year, and thought about doing something out there. Working in the limited space with limited access and where everything seems to need moving and depends on something else being moved first is like trying to do one of those sliding block puzzles. I was never very good at them. It's a bit like that inside the cottage too. Where to start? Perhaps with some bramble bashing while I tried to figure out the next move. Moving the ferns needs to be done soon, before their fronds grow and unfurl. Fibonacci spirals opening to the self-similar, iterative patterns of natural fractals.
Still tickled by the CHAOS acronym, I mused about sensitivity to initial conditions, complexity and fractals and started thinking about Chaos Theory. Chaos is usually defined as a state of disorder. Chaos Theory, on the other hand, is not really about disorder, but about the way in which complex systems are affected by initial conditions and external influences, such that small and seemingly insignificant differences can result in widely varying, apparently unpredictable and random outcomes. (This is just as I understand it, which is to say, not very well. If you're a scientist/physicist/mathematician, please feel free to comment and correct me!). The more complex, the greater the number of influences, the more unpredictable the outcomes. But there's often a natural balance, just enough predictability, an underlying order, so that predictable patterns emerge within things which appear to be random and unpredictable.
Perhaps Chaos Theory applies here. Depending on starting conditions and various influences, (like how much I'm out, how bad my knees are, how creative I'm feeling, how long before I run out of energy, whether the sun is shining or it's pouring with rain, possibly even what colour T shirt I'm wearing ...), repeating patterns and pockets of order appear in the apparently random disorder. Neither completely ordered nor disordered, it's the edge of chaos, requiring flexibility and adaptability, and generating creative inspiration.
Spirals, leaves and flowers, randomness and patches of order ... yes, freeform crochet would be the solution for my flower garden scarf.
[If you've read this far, thank you for sticking with me during this blog equivalent of thinking out loud!]
Saturday, 23 November 2013
The Joy of Movement
One of the most frustrating things I'm finding about my osteoarthritis (OA) is, amazingly, not the daily pain and limitations on movement (although that's bad enough), but the fine line between doing enough and too much. It's unpredictable on any given day how much will be too much, but I still the need to move and exercise because I know that without it, I will seize up altogether and that will be even more painful. I had some physiotherapy for my knees, which woke me up to the need to
strengthen my quad muscles and pay attention to my knee tracking. The Skinner Releasing Technique (SRT) Workshop last year changed my view of somatics from a word which I read and puzzled over, to something real. It awoke my curiosity in how I and others move and the links between movement and context, environment, emotional and physical states and the senses. The realisation of how my OA is going to be a permanent feature of my life started a grieving process, of a sort. Once over the initial upset, I knew I would have to start to listen to my body and rethink movement, learning to move in a different way.
After the success of the SRT workshop, a new series of somatic movement workshops started at Penpynfarch studio. Unfortunately, the state of my knees and the timing of the operation on my foot meant that I have missed four out of the seven so far. Now my knees and toe/foot are improving, I'm driving again, and I need to dance and move!
Somatics refers to the link between the body and mind and its influence on movement. During the 20th Century, it developed into a broad field of approaches to awakening awareness and gaining a deeper understanding of the whole body in motion, using various techniques such as breathing, visualisation and various sensory stimuli. Some of the methods aim to reduce or eliminate chronic pain. I can see how this could be the case for pain caused by poor movement habits, which can cause imbalances and tightness in muscles over time, pulling the body out of alignment and affecting posture and gait. I'm not sure how effective it could be for pain caused by OA, but it will make me think about the way in which I react to the pain in terms of body movement.
I love serendipitous coincidences! As I continue my work to try and improve the function of my toes and knees, a fortnightly contemporary dance class started locally through Arts Care Gofal Celf. It's really more of an extended warm-up and technique session for the youth performance group, but it is taught by a great young teacher who knows my background in dance and is happy for me to work differently at the back, playing with movements to adapt them to my capabilities, skipping those which would frankly be unwise. Each week I can safely test my limitations, explore the limits of my movement and do a little more. I find that with a hot bath and an extra hour in bad the following day, I get a good 24 hours post-class reprieve from the worst of the OA symptoms and can feel the strength and flexibility creeping back into me, in a way that physiotherapy doesn't supply.
With the somatics workshops and the contemporary dance classes, there's a lot of floor work. I'm suprised at how much I'm enjoying stretching, breathing, listening to and working with my body. I've become fascinated with the healing process for my toe. Yes, it is highly subjective and apparently completely self-centred, but doing it with a group also provides insights into how others think about and experience movement. Who knew that rolling around on the floor could be so good for you?
After the success of the SRT workshop, a new series of somatic movement workshops started at Penpynfarch studio. Unfortunately, the state of my knees and the timing of the operation on my foot meant that I have missed four out of the seven so far. Now my knees and toe/foot are improving, I'm driving again, and I need to dance and move!
Somatics refers to the link between the body and mind and its influence on movement. During the 20th Century, it developed into a broad field of approaches to awakening awareness and gaining a deeper understanding of the whole body in motion, using various techniques such as breathing, visualisation and various sensory stimuli. Some of the methods aim to reduce or eliminate chronic pain. I can see how this could be the case for pain caused by poor movement habits, which can cause imbalances and tightness in muscles over time, pulling the body out of alignment and affecting posture and gait. I'm not sure how effective it could be for pain caused by OA, but it will make me think about the way in which I react to the pain in terms of body movement.
I love serendipitous coincidences! As I continue my work to try and improve the function of my toes and knees, a fortnightly contemporary dance class started locally through Arts Care Gofal Celf. It's really more of an extended warm-up and technique session for the youth performance group, but it is taught by a great young teacher who knows my background in dance and is happy for me to work differently at the back, playing with movements to adapt them to my capabilities, skipping those which would frankly be unwise. Each week I can safely test my limitations, explore the limits of my movement and do a little more. I find that with a hot bath and an extra hour in bad the following day, I get a good 24 hours post-class reprieve from the worst of the OA symptoms and can feel the strength and flexibility creeping back into me, in a way that physiotherapy doesn't supply.
With the somatics workshops and the contemporary dance classes, there's a lot of floor work. I'm suprised at how much I'm enjoying stretching, breathing, listening to and working with my body. I've become fascinated with the healing process for my toe. Yes, it is highly subjective and apparently completely self-centred, but doing it with a group also provides insights into how others think about and experience movement. Who knew that rolling around on the floor could be so good for you?
 |
| False perspective, toe on window ledge; playing with extension of tree shapes |
Friday, 30 August 2013
Energy and the Art of the Microburst
I was up with my alarm this morning, partly to get the bins out, and
then so that I could take a painkiller to stop the party going on
between my knees, toes and hips. I lay back down to listen to the news
and plan a little what to do this morning and then next thing I knew, it
was 3 hours later. Everything had stopped hurting and I was very
comfortable, lying on the bed with both cats purring away, but I
couldn't stay there; the most urgent job was to stagger out to the barn
and let the hens out. As it was a grey morning, they'd gone back to bed
too, but my cockerel Red came bustling out, clapped his wings and
started to crow. It sounded rather like 'For goodness' sake! Where have you been? You've got things to do!'
Like many other chronic (that is, long-term) conditions, my osteoarthritis (OA) can fluctuate between good hours, days, weeks, months perhaps, when I'm just a bit stiff, to being completely debilitating. When I'm having a flare, the maximum dose of my painkillers works well enough for me to be pain-free if I don't move, but it will also make me too drowsy to concentrate, or even stay awake. Even without taking painkillers, I was unprepared for the fatigue associated with constant pain. So, with my left knee still not taking my weight, and my right toe still sore after the op, getting anything done at all is something of a challenge.
I think I may have spent the last year in denial a little, but this latest flare-up in my left knee has been going on for nearly three months now and I have started to see the potential benefits of bungalows and the riser-recliner chairs and stair- and bath lifts which are advertised so much during daytime TV. It all leaves me a bit depressed, wondering how long I'll be able to go on dancing and if I'll even be able to dance again.
During May, my knees were feeling more than usually stiff, sore and creaky, but with a bit of a warm up before dancing, people who didn't already know I have issues were astonished when I told them. At one hafla, someone incredulously asked, 'How can you dance and teach if you have severe osteoarthritis?' to which the answer is, most of the time it's okay, and during a flare, with extreme difficulty or not at all.
A friend of mine has become seriously and chronically ill in the past year and I have other friends with various chronic illnesses which the casual observer would not guess at. In other words, they don't look ill. The 'spoon theory' by Christine Miserandino came up in conversation a few months ago. This is an article which explains the practical considerations all those with chronic conditions involving pain and fatigue have to give to their daily life, using spoons as a tangible example of energy credits. Anything which needs movement or energy to do costs you one or more spoons; you don't have as many spoons (energy credits) as you might want or need to get everything done, you need to make them last to the end of the day, and if you go overdrawn, you pay for it the following day, and perhaps longer.
Years ago when I was learning about project management, I got a lot of practice breaking jobs down into tasks in logical steps. Time management courses were hot on multi-tasking and fitting small jobs into odd blocks of time. It wasn't until recently that I'd heard of the 'microburst' in the sense of activity, rather than meteorology.
Activity microbursts are a good technique for getting started on a job which you've been putting off, by doing a very small, non-threatening task or two just to get the ball rolling. For those with a tendency to get obsessed or stuck on a job, deciding to microburst by doing just a couple of smaller tasks ensures you can get on with other things too. They are the classic way to fit a small job into a block of time, for example if you have 20 minutes before you have to set off for somewhere, pick up a job which will take 15 minutes.Alternatively, since work often expands to fill the time allotted to it, pick a task and give it five minutes.
And then there's microbursting for those who, for whatever reason, can't complete the whole job in one go, so jobs become a series of five minute tasks. It's strange to think that, for instance, getting a load of laundry done can be broken down into yet smaller tasks, but it's possible. I have to accept the fact that, for the time being at least, I can't manage to get the last load out, sort out another load and get that on, then carry the basket through and hang up the wet washing, without having to sit and rest a couple of times. (How to carry the washbasket and use a stick? Carry the basket on your head.) So the job which used to take 20 minutes now takes 30 or more. I can microburst other tasks into my rests, such as answering an email, but on more than one occasion I have sat down on the sofa or bed and woken up a couple of hours later. It's frustrating, makes me feel like I'm being lazy, pathetic, not trying hard enough.
For some light relief, I did an Internet search for 'microburst'. The first result was the Wikipedia entry on the weather phenomenon and I was tickled to read that 'There are two types of microbursts: wet microbursts and dry microbursts. They go through three stages in their life cycle: the downburst, outburst, and cushion stages.'
Perfect. I shall now demonstrate a wet microburst by washing up. Filling the sink is the downburst, the outburst stage finishes with all the washed bits and pieces in the drainer and the cushion stage is me sagging gratefully onto the sofa. Then I think I shall try a dry microburst, as I drop to the floor to do some physio, curse out loud when I push my toe a bit too far and crawl back onto the sofa. If I've still got some energy, another dry microburst will be me dumping a load of dry washing onto one seat of the sofa, sitting and folding it all into neat piles ... then probably falling asleep on it. Again.
Like many other chronic (that is, long-term) conditions, my osteoarthritis (OA) can fluctuate between good hours, days, weeks, months perhaps, when I'm just a bit stiff, to being completely debilitating. When I'm having a flare, the maximum dose of my painkillers works well enough for me to be pain-free if I don't move, but it will also make me too drowsy to concentrate, or even stay awake. Even without taking painkillers, I was unprepared for the fatigue associated with constant pain. So, with my left knee still not taking my weight, and my right toe still sore after the op, getting anything done at all is something of a challenge.
I think I may have spent the last year in denial a little, but this latest flare-up in my left knee has been going on for nearly three months now and I have started to see the potential benefits of bungalows and the riser-recliner chairs and stair- and bath lifts which are advertised so much during daytime TV. It all leaves me a bit depressed, wondering how long I'll be able to go on dancing and if I'll even be able to dance again.
During May, my knees were feeling more than usually stiff, sore and creaky, but with a bit of a warm up before dancing, people who didn't already know I have issues were astonished when I told them. At one hafla, someone incredulously asked, 'How can you dance and teach if you have severe osteoarthritis?' to which the answer is, most of the time it's okay, and during a flare, with extreme difficulty or not at all.
A friend of mine has become seriously and chronically ill in the past year and I have other friends with various chronic illnesses which the casual observer would not guess at. In other words, they don't look ill. The 'spoon theory' by Christine Miserandino came up in conversation a few months ago. This is an article which explains the practical considerations all those with chronic conditions involving pain and fatigue have to give to their daily life, using spoons as a tangible example of energy credits. Anything which needs movement or energy to do costs you one or more spoons; you don't have as many spoons (energy credits) as you might want or need to get everything done, you need to make them last to the end of the day, and if you go overdrawn, you pay for it the following day, and perhaps longer.
Years ago when I was learning about project management, I got a lot of practice breaking jobs down into tasks in logical steps. Time management courses were hot on multi-tasking and fitting small jobs into odd blocks of time. It wasn't until recently that I'd heard of the 'microburst' in the sense of activity, rather than meteorology.
Activity microbursts are a good technique for getting started on a job which you've been putting off, by doing a very small, non-threatening task or two just to get the ball rolling. For those with a tendency to get obsessed or stuck on a job, deciding to microburst by doing just a couple of smaller tasks ensures you can get on with other things too. They are the classic way to fit a small job into a block of time, for example if you have 20 minutes before you have to set off for somewhere, pick up a job which will take 15 minutes.Alternatively, since work often expands to fill the time allotted to it, pick a task and give it five minutes.
And then there's microbursting for those who, for whatever reason, can't complete the whole job in one go, so jobs become a series of five minute tasks. It's strange to think that, for instance, getting a load of laundry done can be broken down into yet smaller tasks, but it's possible. I have to accept the fact that, for the time being at least, I can't manage to get the last load out, sort out another load and get that on, then carry the basket through and hang up the wet washing, without having to sit and rest a couple of times. (How to carry the washbasket and use a stick? Carry the basket on your head.) So the job which used to take 20 minutes now takes 30 or more. I can microburst other tasks into my rests, such as answering an email, but on more than one occasion I have sat down on the sofa or bed and woken up a couple of hours later. It's frustrating, makes me feel like I'm being lazy, pathetic, not trying hard enough.
For some light relief, I did an Internet search for 'microburst'. The first result was the Wikipedia entry on the weather phenomenon and I was tickled to read that 'There are two types of microbursts: wet microbursts and dry microbursts. They go through three stages in their life cycle: the downburst, outburst, and cushion stages.'
Perfect. I shall now demonstrate a wet microburst by washing up. Filling the sink is the downburst, the outburst stage finishes with all the washed bits and pieces in the drainer and the cushion stage is me sagging gratefully onto the sofa. Then I think I shall try a dry microburst, as I drop to the floor to do some physio, curse out loud when I push my toe a bit too far and crawl back onto the sofa. If I've still got some energy, another dry microburst will be me dumping a load of dry washing onto one seat of the sofa, sitting and folding it all into neat piles ... then probably falling asleep on it. Again.
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