Health and Disability: Relinquishment

I'm sorry that I haven't posted in a while. That is, paradoxically, both because I've been busy--and also because I have nothing really new to report! My "busyness" has been because I've been exercising and working on my weight loss project (45 pounds thus far and many inches!). It's also been because I've been trying to reassert order to this house that has been abandoned by me for several years now. (Not literally "abandoned"--I've still lived here when not in the hospital, but all attempts at housekeeping etc. were laid aside due to illnesses, both mental and physical.) Due to my efforts at exercising and to the fact that my asthma has been under very good control for several months now--I've finally gotten strong enough and have enough endurance to do things like mop the floors and vacuum. Although I am still seriously hindered by back and joint pain, I'm pretty good at "sucking it up" and getting stuff done regardless of how I'm feeling. That is: as long as my discomfort is limited to pain and doesn't involve breathlessness or being sick mentally.

I'm finding that my house is full of the acruments of a person who once had energy and inclination to save and re-use every container that I "might one day use", and who DID use them - filling jars etc, with whole grains and herbs (which I grew and dried myself) (see image)...dried fruits, relishes and pickles I'd made, etc. It's been quite a while since I could tolerate the physical effort of cooking like that (although I still do use the whole grains and herbs), so the containers have sat empty and served only to clutter up shelves. So I'm in a process of shedding excess belongings or things that I relate to activities which I can no longer do due to my arthritis. I've given away all of my craft and stamping equipment...and much of my art equipment. I've still kept my watercolors and sets of pencils and pastels etc...not as much because I will use them, but more because I cannot bear to part with them.

Today, I cleaned out my screen porch...which was a disaster area of spilled potting soil and soil-filled pots which still contain the roots of the plants that once flourished there. I'd already given away many of my pots and garden containers (of which I had MANY, having nurtured a very large vegetable and herb container garden on my deck (see picture) for the years preceding my becoming too disabled. Actually, this year is the first when I finally had to admit to myself that I really could not plant or maintain a garden anymore. I did not plant anything this year and only have a planter full of chamomile and mint and lemonbalm as well as a garden plot of perennials which were hardy enough to bloom for another year and suffer my neglect. I am grateful for this patch of ground which now holds oregano, thyme, mint, catnip and a few flowers (which the voracious deer have all but destroyed because I did not spray them this year with my capsicum mixture which has repelled them in the past).

My other flower beds are full of weeds and it saddens me to see them...and to admit that, as much better as I've been feeling, I still cannot get down on my knees to pull out the weeds. I mourn the passing of my health in the same way as, I guess, an elderly person does, who suddenly has to come to terms with the fact that this year, they can no longer do what they did last year...and that they will never be able to again. I still haven't come to the point when I can say "never again" and that is the reason I've kept some art supplies and many garden implements. But I DO have to admit that it will be well over a year before I can consider such activities again, because I'm waiting for three more surgeries which will very effectively obliterate most of my activity for next year as well.

My great goal and hope is that next month I will be able to purchase a new LCD screen for my laptop to try to repair the damage I did to it by falling on it. That will greatly improve my "freedom" to interact online and to once more, pursue my writing. For now, that has largely been abandoned. My autobiography is now in the hands of an agent for her perusal. And who knows where that may go? Maybe nowhere, but I do have to cherish some dreams, don't I?