Thursday, July 28, 2011
Sigh. I'm Doing It Again....
For those of you who aren't familiar with living with chronic pain, here's the Spoon Theory.
I hate when I do it.
Or when it does it to me.
When pain burrows deep, tentacles reaching past sinews into marrow, I burrow myself deep, too.
I don't mean to. It just happens.
Fingers ache redly, so I don't write. Head spins sickly, so I don't read.
I don't want to talk, so I hide shyly, not wanting to heft my burdens on shoulders of others.
So I isolate, not blogging, not Facebooking, not Tweeting, not Wattpadding. I fold in on myself, reluctantly.
I hope to push through these days of pain and exhaustion, come out of my proverbial shell, and live well again.
Tomorrow I'll be pushing myself out there--attending Morning Prayer and the Holy Communion Healing Service at Victoria Chapel with Alpine Anglican Church of the Blessed Trinity, followed by J's guitar lesson with Father Acker, part of the Free Teen Guitar Class outreach. Then home to bake cookies to sell at our annual town festival where I'll be helping at the Pine Valley Community Garden booth after the town parade--Pine Valley Days is always a day of fun!
After dropping J off at the monthly Guitar Jam in Alpine, I'll drive to my dear friend's house where I'll spend the night and enjoy a girl-gab fest (with much poetry and literary discussion). I'll drive back up the mountain early Saturday morning to participate in Pine Valley Days.
And on Sunday, Lake Murray is hosting a Missions Conference since all of our missionaries are stateside. Two of our favorite missionaries cannot attend, but most will be here for a wonderful conference encompassing work in West Africa, North Africa, East Asia, and the former Soviet republics, as well as missionary training in Wisconsin, outreach to migrant farm workers in Wyoming/Idaho, plus hospital chaplaincy and homeless ministries here in San Diego.
So I have a busy few days ahead as I come out of this painful shell--pushing, emerging, and, I pray, blooming where I am planted.
Emerging from my hidey-hole, I pray,