I'm trying to figure out how to be normal again. I feel like I came out of Covid a bit weirder than I went in. Less socially sure but more confident in my self. Now I've come out of another fog and I feel like I almost don't know who I was in December starting radiotherapy, who I was in March curled up in bed with a vacuum attached to my back or who I am now, bumbling through a strange and difficult harvest.
Right now I need to factor in more active(?) rest than I usually do. I can't just push on through otherwise I'll find myself sitting in the work allotment having a cry. Again. I've been playing more video games and crocheting as much as ever which is lovely but I'd also like to be meeting up with friends and heading to the gym before work. This bank holiday was largely spent resting after a road trip to The North for a D&D game. I didn't even drive and I still needed those two days. Why is pretending to be an arsonist lizard an exhausting activity for me?
Yes. I know. It's harvest. Anyone who knows me knows I'm a pile of congealed soup who needs a nap and an early night through August and September.
a glimpse of the work allotment where i had a cry
But I'm also trying to get myself fitter again. Having a chunk taken out of my back has entirely fucked up my already pretty poor core strength and balance. I'm bad at yoga, I think it might even be part of why I enjoy it so much but right now it's challenging enough to be upsetting. I'm struggling with simply bends and my balance is the worst it's ever been. I'm improving, slowly. Physio is an amazing thing but a supine twist doesn't do much for the anxious mind.
I'm trying really hard to help myself heal but when I'm sitting in a yoga class all I can see in front of me in the mirror is a stiff lump who's brain, balance and body confidence are all somewhere else. I see posture that's overcompensating, clothes that are more a comfort blanket than particularly extra comfortable any more, and sad wet eyes that are looking anywhere but forward.
Maybe I'm getting there more than this glum version of me can see but the rush of thoughts that greets me as I hobble around my existence is loud and insistent.
I don't mind being a bit weirder coming out of this. But I wish I knew what to do with this weirdness.
