Empty buckets

 

I did an enneagram test for fun the other day. It said I was a 2 which basically is a helper who needs to be needed. It sounds like me. Or the past me.

Always trying to help and indeed, called on often in time of trouble, it has been my pleasure to respond to the call. Until recently.

Since we had so many changes in the last 12 months, I have found my spoons are lacking. I cry easily, both when I am sad and also when happy. I hunger for solitude and just watching the bird life around us. I need time to heal not only from the meniscus tear in my knees and my lymphedema, but emotionally. I am tired. 

I am indeed grateful to the LORD for so much.  I love to listen to the Bible on You Tube and I play hymns in the background most of the day. Prayer is often ongoing for hours and I am gradually finding peace again.

It's good that we are now retired as there are days when the fibromyalgia flares and I can't stay awake, and I now just go to bed and have a nana nap whenever it is necessary. 

It has taken me 72 years to realise that it is true that 

1. I am not responsible for fixing everything or everyone who is broken. But I can pray for them.
2. It is OK to say no if I honestly can't cope with a request. I don't have to feel guilty 
3. It is OK to admit to being over something and not to be stoic and push myself mercilessly

It is important to recognise burn out and to take steps to heal. Taking care of yourself is not being selfish. There will be time after your healing to be a helper again. Not recognising burn out will result in you having a physical or emotional meltdown. And no one is going to benefit if you have lost your joie de vivre or your milk of human kindness is dried up and you have only empty buckets to give.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

And he said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while: for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat. Mark 6:31

Footnote: since writing this post, I have learned that enneagrams originated from new age practices and automatic writing. I will not be doing any quizzes etc regarding this again. Thank you, Janine for making me aware of this. 

Where God wants me to be

 

Next month I will be 72. All things pertaining to ageing are at an all time peak. Everything that can ache, does.

Every day I need a nana nap to get through to dinner time and really there's nothing I can do to change that. I am forced to go with the flow.

I used to buy Lite N Easy food as part of my Aged Care package, but Chris and I have become sick of it. I have no choice but to cook.

As dinner times are when my spoons are usually spent, I sit down at the kitchen table and prepare whatever I can beforehand. Then it's just a matter of cooking some meat and doing some gravy.

Both ageing and fibromyalgia keep me living in pain, but I try to not complain about it too much.

I know at this season of my life that I can take that nana nap when I need to or leave the clothes to be folded another day. Likewise I can go to bed as early as I want... there are no schedules to keep.

Each day brings its challenges but even so, I am glad to be here...life is still sweet!

Even in this quiet season of my life it is very comforting to know that I am just where God wants me to be.  

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

And my people shall dwell in a peaceable habitation, and in sure dwellings, and in quiet resting places; Isaiah 32:18 

Still or not, you suffer

I have been very ill off-and-on for several weeks now. But I needed to drag myself out of bed and "Make an Easter for the Family" as Connie Hultquist would say.   I will be okay. My husband (who is disabled) and I learn to live in pain and suffering.  He will say that he is going to suffer whether he is doing something in life, or sitting still and hurting.  He chooses to do things and live, rather than do nothing and suffer. He will suffer no matter what. But we put on a happy face and enjoy the family and our home and all the wonderful blessings we have.  Mrs White of Legacy of Home

 

As a chronically ill woman, I have seen two lots of sufferers- those who feel like Mrs White and I and those who take to their beds and surrender to it.

Just because the former types of ill people push on as much as humanly possible does not mean that their illness is all in their head and therefore subject to discipline of oneself. 

It means that they realise that they may as well try to live as normal a life as possible instead of taking to their bed like the latter half and doing nothing... 

We all have days where illness or disability makes it impossible to do anything,  ensuring we have to rest, but those who never try to live won't even try to have a life even on better days.

Last week I had a fibromyalgia flare and it was truly torture to try to do those jobs I need to do.. I had no other choice than to rest. But today is the first day I felt a bit better, and so resumed my "normal" routine and feel better emotionally for it.

Others would prolong the flare and continue to stay in bed as they often fear bringing on another flare. Instead, they often succumb to depression because they have mentally  put themselves in the invalid role and therefore often endure the loneliness and joylessness of the invalid.

Over the past 24 years of fibromyalgia and other illnesses, I have decided to push myself a little in order to enjoy more of my life. But there's always a balance- if I feel particularly down, I will take a nana nap or actually go to bed.

The trick is learning to co exist with these illnesses and try not to allow those dictators called "Spoons" to literally dictate how we will live each day and how much enjoyment we will derive from each of those days.

As I have been up for quite a few hours already and done some housework, my muscles are cramping and I need to rest. But at least I have some job satisfaction and can cross some tasks off my daily to do list...

Until next time, may you find some spoons to energise you and some motivation so as to enjoy the most of your life that you can today...

Don't let the spoons dictate your life every moment.. still or not, you suffer..

 

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.  Psalm 90:12

It's not about how fast we spin our wheel

We have RSV in our house and I am wiped out! Whether you have the flu or suffer like I do from fibromyalgia, you will have days where your body forces you to rest simply because you can't do anything else.

But that doesn't mean that resting will make it better. Nor does it guarantee that you will gather more spoons to use when you rise up from your sickbed.

When you are chronically ill, you don't get better and rest definitely doesn't leave you feeling refreshed and full of energy.

The most rest can do for us is give us a temporary respite from forcing ourselves way beyond  our comfort zone to serve our family.

Needing to rest can make those who don't understand chronic illness to make us become the victim of nasty retorts stating that we are lazy and putting it on in order to take to our bed. 

Being that fibromyalgia is one of many invisible illnesses, we are often maligned as malingers and the angst that this creates can cause us to become depressed as well as angry.

We didn't ask to be sick and most of us in fact push ourselves way beyond our comfort zone to prove to ourselves and others that we are not lazy.

I think as fibromyalgia is often a prolonged illness that we would do well to take thoughts of others directed at us to be taken into the captivity of Christ Who doesn't condemn us but Who loves us at all times. 

He understands and doesn't condemn us. We have to take His Word that He loves us as we are.

We need to learn to switch off from those who condemn and criticise us for taking frequent breaks and nana naps. We know we are doing the best we can and our worth is not about how fast we spin our wheel.

 © Glenys Robyn Hicks

 

Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name. He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him. With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation. -Psalm 91:14-16

Ordinary and good!

It's Wednesday morning here. I have just finished putting the groceries I got online away. It's so convenient for Chris and I seeing as we both are unwell

I have done a couple of loads of washing and am thinking about doing some lunch. Toasted cheese and tomato sangers sounds good and easy.  

My kitchen needs to be cleaned but I am out of spoons as I didn't sleep well last night. The weather is changing as it's autumn here and we can experience all seasons in one day. It plays havoc with my fibromyalgia. It's making me feel miserable.

I am thinking of taking a nana nap before I do the kitchen. But before that I will take some Panadol Osteo   to help relieve my fibro pain. Pacing and resting are not an option with fibromyalgia: it's a necessity. 

After I clean the kitchen I will cook chow mein and rice for dinner and if I have enough spoons I will fold the day's clean clothes and put them away.

It's an ordinary day here and I am glad. When you think of what's happening in the world, I can truly gratefully say that God has blessed me with a day that's ordinary and good! 

Micah says it all!

Recently during one of my quiet times, I read one of my favourite verses from Micah 6:8 "He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?"

Being a  Christian isn't  really that difficult. Once one has  surrendered his or her life to Christ, the Holy Spirit guides us into that which pleases God. 

Our walk with Him is continuous and should lead us to becoming better people than we were yesterday, emulating the Master, Jesus Christ.

As a sufferer of many ailments which cause chronic pain and fatigue, fibromyalgia being the worst culprit, I used to worry about not being able to serve God as well as I did in my younger Christian walk before illnessdep. 

Depression would hang around my shoulders like a cloak because I felt unable to do much for Jesus, in fact unable to do much at all for even my family.

Then I had an epiphany! I realised that God can be served mostly by having a loving heart. Besides, His love for us is not dependant on what we do, but on what He has done for us! 

God only requires that I love Him with my whole heart, mind and soul, that I love justice and mercy and that I walk humbly with Him. It's nothing to do with limitations brought on by illness or disability or our lack of energy or spoons to do things. Grace is wonderful and my favourite verse in Micah says it all!

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

"He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?" Micah 6:8

I'm no longer a bunny!

 

So Easter has come and gone and so have all my spoons! I have been under the weather all over Easter and have a constant fibromyalgia flare, coupled with spinal pain.

With moving the homemaking help for the elderly stopped and it would take a long time to get it all arranged. We have decided to enlist a woman to clean for us fortnightly again.

This lady is very efficient and friendly as well and although we enlisted her for once a month cleaning, the truth is I need her fortnightly. I can maintain our home in between her visits, but with once a month, the house is needing a more thorough clean and therefore took more than the two hours I hired her to clean.

As always, I hate needing to have help these days, and Chris is too unwell to help me. It is what it is..

You would think that with having back pain for forty years and fibromyaglia and angina for twenty, that I would be more gracious to myself. I should be accepting my lot, but being a woman, I still find my perceived worth as a homemaker is dictated by how fast I spin my wheel without help.

So with my 70th birthday here in a few weeks, I am just going to have to accept my handicaps and be merciful to myself.

I should be glad that I have a husband who agrees to hiring help. A lot of women don't. So I will just stop the pity party and enjoy this season where we can afford her...

And also, when she comes, I am not going to clean the house before she comes... I am a  perfectionist, but no longer... where housework is concerned, I will get the help I need. I'm no longer a bunny!

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

God is my strength and power: and he maketh my way perfect. 2 Samuel 22:33

Dead tired

A woman who suffers from a chronic illness or disability often finds herself at the end of "normals'" ideas of being tired. We are often looked at with contempt for being so tired that we can't perform our daily duties properly. Or that we have to go to bed early, rise late, or cancel social engagements at the last minute. We are not lazy. 

Before Corona, we were regarded with suspicion when we couldn't make it to church regularly and people harshly judged our spiritual health, deeming us backslidden.  Emotional and spiritual hurt exacerbates our ill state. We feel worse and they lack compassion.

Often we have to cancel doctors' appointments because we are too sick to get there. We find we can't drive and even if we could, we haven't got the strength to even get washed and dressed. It is not unheard of that some of us have crumpled in the shower, unable to get out and totally winded...

Our "tired" goes far beyond a sleepiness or drowsy feeling. We are so fatigued that breathing is too much effort and not for the first time we are grateful it's automatic.

Furthermore, our "tired" is not helped by a nanna nap or even 9 hours of sleep.  We fight our illness and pain even in our dreams and wake up unrefreshed and have to face another day when we haven't recuperated from the day before. We simply have run out of spoons.

"Tired" is overused and doesn't come close to the bone sucking quagmire of desperate fatigue we chronically ill people find ourselves sinking into constantly.  To have "normals" flippantly say, "Me too!" when we tell them we are tired invalidates us and makes us long for their brand of tiredness that can be restored through a good sleep.

We cannot even enjoy a shower or bath to help us sleep as the effort it takes to do this not only drains us of whatever energy we can find, but does not always bring a restorative sleep. Just muscle pain.

Such is my own pain on going to bed that I find I cannot place my arms anywhere comfortable. My fibromyalgia and polymyalgia rheumatica make it impossible to raise my arms upwards and extending them hurts my muscles and tendons. So I go to sleep with my arms folded on my chest.

I indeed look like a cadaver which has been laid out and testifies somewhat to the feeling of being dead in my tracks.  Because that's the type of exhaustion we face every day: we truly feel dead tired.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth. Psalm 71:9

Making the most of my spoons

So for the last few days I have been enjoying a respite from fibromyalgia pain. The weather has been lovely and sunny and the warmth has permeated my being and soothed a lot of muscle pain.

I have been decluttering our home and making extra meals to freeze for later on. It has been a novelty and a joy to have spoons to do it.

Aware that it can bring on a flare if I do too much, I have been pacing myself. I do 15 minutes sessions of decluttering with a rest in between. With cooking, I do about half an hour of food prep then take a rest as well.

I am enjoying my new dishwasher too. It certainly makes keeping up with the dishes and keeping my kitchen tidier easier. And that I find, encourages me to cook.

I really don't know how long this respite will last, but I'm grateful each day that I have absence from pain and fatigue.

Until you have a respite, you don't realise how challenging your life is. So for the moment, however brief it may be, I will be making the most of my spoons.

 

The Queen of List Making

So I did it again! Instead of cleaning up after dinner, I went to bed with dishes in the sink. I hate when I do that!

I mean, with fibromyalgia robbing me of a good restful sleep, the mornings are hard enough to face. Having a dirty kitchen to wake up to is the pits!

Most would think that it's just laziness, but by the time I have cooked dinner my spoons are almost gone. Yes gone! I am so done in by the end of the day that even lifting my arms up to put my nightie over them creates pain.

Oh, yes, I make lists and read motivational blogs and You tubes, but to no avail. I am the Queen of List Making. Yet my limited spoons dictate that I do very little and I am left with ashes in my mouth.

I know I said before that I have been keeping busy and that's true, but I now have a rebound fibro flare and coupled with our autumn cold snap with rain, I am in a lot of pain.

You would think that I would have worked out this fibromyalgia lurk after twenty years. And for the most part although I hate it, I have learned to exist with fibro without feeling false guilt that leads to depression.

Most days I accept my disability, but deep inside is a perfectionist screaming to get out! On days like this, I try to nest and I overextend my limits. Hello, Fibro Flare!

I am grateful to my husband Chris. He is an mild mannered man who is happy with how I do manage to keep our nest. He, and most people who come to visit- well in better days obviously- are happy with the state of our home.

It must be that I am my own worst enemy: trying to do the work of a much younger healthier woman: everything in its place and a place for everything. But always straining, never achieving thanks to Fibromyalgia.  I need to accept what is and hang up my crown as the Queen of List Making.

 

Clean enough to be healthy

I have had a perfectionist streak all my life, but in the last twenty or so years of ill health, I have had to learn to be content with a more relaxed approach to my home making.

Where once I would be consumed with (false) guilt because I made our bed without four corner tucks or I had the blankets bumpy on the bed, I have had to make do with a more lenient approach. I simply don't have the energy to do four corner tucks. However, even the bed made up quickly and sporting a lump here or there, is extremely satisfying to me now that I've gotten past the perfectionism.

Mornings are no longer the time for house keeping. I have to fit in what I can over however long it takes me... and be content at the end of the day that I actually got it done...

I no longer allow cleaning schedules to dictate to me what I must achieve in any given day or time frame: it gets done more or less within the schedule but on a time of my choosing. It's the only way a Sacrificial Home Keeper can manage..

In saying that I am no longer a perfectionist, I still like to live in a clean home. For me, there are basic things that are not negotiable. I cannot live my life happily unless these things are clean:

I must be clean.

My clothes must be clean.

My bed must be fresh and clean.

My dishes and cooking utensils must be clean.

I can't stand smelly toilets and these and my bathroom must be clean.

These days I need help to maintain this list of essentials.  I do not go into a spin if a fly has died on my window ledge or there is some dust on my furniture. I have learned to accept white cat fur as a part of being a mother to a white cat. The floors can be in need of a vacuum, but I now have Roombas to do them.  It has been years since I ironed something that only I will see... and I learned years ago that one can sleep on unironed pillowcases... it can be done!

I find cooking, shopping, menu and social planning, washing and folding of clothes, managing finances and being a loving wife to my husband is enough for me to cope with. I know from experience over the years that by not pacing myself, I will crash and burn and my recovery time will need more than an occasional nana nap...

Accepting our limitations is an important part of staying calm in a world that has become anything but. And for most of us Sacrificial Home Keepers, our world is our home. 

One final thought that helped me was remembering what our family doctor once said to me when my children were young: "A home should be clean enough to be healthy, but untidy enough to be happy!"  I am trusting that I have at last put his advice into action.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

God is my strength and power: and he maketh my way perfect. 2 Samuel 22:33

Cooking is a ministry

Lately with diabetes and heart failure causing Chris to lose his appetite, it has become more important than ever to prepare food for him that he enjoys.

Illness makes one's taste buds change and so the menu I prepare and the ingredients I buy constantly change.

I have to ask him on the day what he fancies to eat and I literally have to coax him to have some food. It can be very challenging.

In order to keep abreast of Chris's changing tastes in food, I keep a whiteboard on my fridge, jotting down things that he enjoyed and I glean Pinterest for ideas on meals. If Chris says he would like to try a recipe I find, it goes on that list too.

When my uncle lived with my mother, and later on my step-father, both of them lived beyond what the doctors expected (cancer and emphysema), and I credit that to Mum's good and plain cooking.

Chris knows this and forces himself to eat sometimes, but he never finishes a meal. Because a large plate of food nauseates him, I serve them in smaller plates. You learn as you go along.

I can well remember my ailing step-father Max sitting eating without obvious enjoyment and I asked him if he liked the meal. His answer has stayed in my mind to be implemented now in Chris's time of illness.

He said nothing was wrong with the meal, but his appetite was gone and he only eats because he knows he has to. And so I tell Chris when he refuses to eat. I remind him of what Max said. So he eats.

Nutritionally, all of Chris's blood tests come back normal. So he's getting enough iron and so on..

With cutting carbs and sugar as well as lack of teeth thrown into the mix, it can get frustrating at times. I make it a priority to include these needs into my prayer time each morning along with a request for necessary spoons (energy) with my fibromyalgia.

Apart from wisdom in meal preparation, God's been teaching me patience, kindness and endurance... and because nutrition is so important to us, I know the Man Who cooked breakfast for His disciples doesn't mind at all... cooking is a ministry!

© Glenys Robyn Hicks 

"When they landed, they saw a charcoal fire there with fish on it, and some bread. Jesus told them, “Bring some of the fish you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and dragged the net ashore. It was full of large fish, 153, but even with so many, the net was not torn.

“Come, have breakfast,” Jesus said to them. None of the disciples dared to ask Him, “Who are You?” They knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and He did the same with the fish." -John  21:9-12

No spoons required

So yesterday was a really good day. In spite of my fibromyalgia flaring and angina. But it's because of those things that today has been so good.

My diary showed a doctors' appointment to attend, then the chemist for scripts and then the inevitable grocery shop for the week. A full day for a chronically ill person.

I thought it through and decided to ring the clinic and change a face to face consult with a phone one. Then I rang the chemist to advise them that the script I owed them for some blood pressure tablets would be coming in the afternoon. Then I arranged the medicines to be delivered to me.

Then grabbing a cup of tea, I did my online shop and arranged delivery of it for tomorrow. And I played Candy Crush until the doctor rang me.

He arranged for the escripts to be sent directly to our chemist. I made another cup of tea as the doorbell rang- the girl with our medicines delivered them very promptly.

Cooking a simple meal, I found I had energy to work on my crochet project until bedtime. I had plenty of energy as all the errands had been done with no spoons required.

More than a place to sleep

Recently someone asked why do we make our bed? I gave it some thought as I have recently been making my own bed daily, in spite of regularly going back into it for a nana nap. Here's a few thoughts on why I use my precious spoons to make my bed.

Physically its more comfortable to sleep in. 

Psychologically its more inviting.

It makes the room visually more esthetically pleasing.

The bed's the centrepiece of the room like in a painting. 

It gives the illusion of order and calm.

It uplifts my spirits when I come into my bedroom.

With fibromyalgia, angina and back problems, I make mine but often get back in it. So I remake it.

When I make it, I don't get on my knees as they are broken and I do not do hospital bed mitred corners. I pull up my top sheet, then turn back the minky blankets. With arthritic hands, the only tucks I do are at the bottom of the bed to secure the bedding...

But, being honest, I sometimes let it go when I have a fibro flare- being satified that the sheets and bedding is clean. But the majority of times, my beds are made. 

Beds are more comfortable made up or at least straightened and are more than a place to sleep.

Searching for some spoons

                                          

So Chris wasn't feeling well, so we didn't get out yesterday. I ordered $30 worth of groceries through Woolworths online. We have to pick them up at 1pm. It's so handy to shop like that. After that I need to get some prescriptions made up and go to the Post Office.

I managed to do all those dishes yesterday, with just last night's pots and pans to wash today. Tonight I will shower. If I do it this morning, I will run out of spoons and won't make it for the errands later.

It's hard searching for spoons and finding none, knowing that you have to do certain errands like shopping and getting medicines. And the tricky thing is when you find some, they disappear before you can put them to good use, and you find you need to take a nana nap just to accomplish it.

I know with talking to other Fibromites that I am not alone, as having no spoons seems to be a typical symptom of fibromyalgia. So for the next few hours before I pick up the groceries, you know where I'll be: searching for some spoons.

I'm my own worst enemy!

When I have no spoons or motivation to do housework, I often watch Youtube videos of people cleaning their home. Sometimes it works and I feel that I can get something done.

This can sometimes go against me because often the videos are of women half my age, with no disabilities and therefore no need to worry about spoons or flares or having to take a nana nap.

They seem to be cleaning houses that are already immaculate and they make it look so easy. Their homes outshine mine in every way, and so does their appearance. It can make me more depressed if I am in a flare of fibromyalgia, trying to get motivated to clean and teetering at the edge of the Pit of Despair. 

So I have to take Chris's advice and remember that I am an older woman with chronic health issues and try not to compare myself with them. But the desire to kindle a spark of motivation is strong and I find myself gravitating to those videos like a moth to a flame. And often it only makes me feel worse!

Sometimes, I think I'm my own worst enemy! 

It makes my spoons quiver!

So yesterday we had more family come for Christmas. We had a lovely lunch, feasting on the abundant leftovers from the feast on Christmas Day. 

Because I had pushed myself physically the day before, my fibromyalgia was flaring and my back was spasming because I had been on my feet preparing food for a long time. I was feeling overwhelmed.

I was feeling hospitable, it was just because of pain that the day was on a downer for me personally. I tried my best to be cheerful. We Fibromites and chronically ill people become consumate actors in playing the cheerful game.

My step-daughter was very gracious and helped me make teas and coffees and carve left over ham, and not for the first time, I was very grateful to her.

With 35C temperatures- 95F, I was also very grateful for our air conditioner. The dining area was very comfortable and we passed a pleasant day.

My little 4 year old great-granddaughter Evie came to me and asked me to show her my bedroom. So taking my hand, she led me to my room, looked at the ensuite, and declared, "Nana, I love your house, and I love you too!"  It made my day.

Her declaration of love warms my heart even now as I talk to you. I am sitting here in fibro pain with my two freshly broken purple toes throbbing. (I kicked the corner of the dining table leg, collecting two toes for the price of one.) But the happiness of my little lovely Evie's declaration overshadows even the pain today.

The house is tidy, the washing in the machine and the Christmas tree and decorations are put away. My robotic vacuums have been run today. We are now officially post Christmas.

We placed the tree still decorated into a closet that is empty, and should the LORD tarry, it will be a simple matter to reinstall it next year. Not that I really can imagine another Christmas right now. 

Quite simply, nice as it was, it makes my few remaining spoons quiver! 

It's all I can do this year!

So I did a thing that stripped me of what little spoons I had. I took a shower and went to click and collect a few Christmas gifts I ordered on line.

I came home and cooked dinner and had a bad asthma attack. I couldn't breathe properly. Chris tidied up the kitchen for me and I sat down for a while until I felt better.

The Mother of all Fibro Flares has paid me a visit. I ache everywhere and feel too exhausted even to talk. It is nearly 11am here and I am ready to go to bed. I will have a nana nap.

You just have to listen to your body in times like this. Hopefully I will wake up with some spoons Christmas Day.

As we now have a large enough home for guests, we will be hosting Christmas this year. I am having a simple traditional meal and that's all...

I am too pooped to worry a great deal about Christmas this year. We have bought a few things online and that will have to do. Sometimes you just have to rest your tired twinkle! 

Apart from cancelling Christmas, it's all I can do this year!. 

Worth every cent!

 

I have enjoyed using my Roomba robotic vacuum so much that I have bought another robotic vacuum that also mops the floors.

Our home has lots of tiles on the floor and it takes a good deal of spoons to keep them clean. These two robotic vacuums saves me on energy and pain.

There's been little energy and a lot of pain these last few weeks. My blood pressure is still high even with me resting more. It's a bit of a puzzle really as emotionally I am good-or as good as someone with constant fibromyalgia pain can be. So I am not stressed.

I am enjoying our new home and it is finally decorated and things unpacked. I have also been decluttering and have given away quite a few things that I found were only taking up space without bringing me joy.

Anyway, I highly recommend all Sacrificial Home Keepers get a robotic vacuum- preferably one that mops as well as vacuums. They are coming down in price but I assure you, they are worth every cent!

I am beyond tired!

 

After a good day yesterday, I ended up flat on my back. Actually that is in bed. My doctor said my BP was too high at 187/87 and he put me on more meds. I planned to do some organising of my wardrobe but it was not to be.

Half an hour after taking my BP medication, I found I couldn't keep my eyes open, so I went to bed. Woke up a couple of hours later just in time to cook dinner. Dinner wasn't very exciting- a steak sandwich.

Tonight I had to take my usual dose of BP tablets and I am just about to go to bed. It's so frustrating! But with chronic illness, it is what it is!

I have to go back to him in two weeks. He is going to discuss giving me Endep for my fibromyalgia pain.

Unable to sit for long, I have culled a lot of FB groups and deleted my Twitter account. I want to reserve whatever spoons I have to look after Chris and our home. I need to spend more time with him and not on the computer.

This dance with chronic illness has it lead all the way. It steps on your toes and cramps your style. It holds you captive. I just want a break from it. I am beyond tired!