Sunday Stroke Survival: Give Yourself Permission

I had a revelation, of sorts, while I was in the process of moving from my old home to my new one that I wanted to share with y'all.

Packing up to move is nobody's idea of fun. In fact, it's one of the top ten stress causing items on the list of major stress factors that heavily impact your well being. It's near the top like death of a spouse or loved one. Lord knows, I was already up to my eyeballs with that stress factor.

Moving after a stroke is no picnic.What to take. What to sell. What to donate. What to trash. All these decisions were up to little, old me. ALONE. Before, it was a couples or family thing. To top it off, I was seriously down sizing. I am going from an over 2,000 sq ft house to one less than 200. One-tenth and I had stuff galore to fill my 2,000+ sq ft when you count the attic, and out buildings. For weeks before the move, I never felt so ill prepared for a move in my entire life!

My favorite stress pic

 I was hit full force with what I could do and what I could not do. There was a whole lot I just physically could not do. It wasn't that I wasn't trying. The spirit was willing, but my body couldn't. That's a bitter pill for my never-say-die attitude. To fill one box took about forty trips from where whatever it was was to the box and back again. The fact that my left side was weaker, yes even after almost four years, than my right before my stroke was a major tell. I could only carry a few things at a time to be placed in the box. That's if I didn't want to leave a trail of items between one place and another. That meant small loads, one or two items at best.

Compound this issue with my fatigue and my Botox wearing off, it took a good amount of effort to fill one box. Then, there was the question of what to do with the box when full. I found that if the box wasn't to heavy or too big, I could pick it up in a football carry and take it to the staging area. I had rooms set aside for "take," "donate," "storage," and trash." I had to rest between boxes and still it was a maddening cycle. If the boxes were to heavy or big, they had to stay where they were. Talk about an obstacle course!

I was fit to pull my hair out several times over the month. Yes, it took a month at the snail's pace I was doing it at. I wasn't having fun. You know me, I always try to make everything enjoyable to keep going. I was totally opposite of how I am usually. I was irritated, short tempered, and didn't see the redeeming quality in anything. In fact, I seriously considered lighting a torch and setting the whole house aflame several times. I couldn't stand to be around myself and there's no way escaping yourself. I could see myself. Hating myself. But unable to stop myself from doing it. That's horrible for me.

One morning it dawned on me. Quite literally because the spastic muscles in my arm don't let me sleep long. The pain isn't as great with the dry needling, but it will still wake me up to reposition my arm.  What am I doing and why am I hurting myself? I needed to accept what is and give myself permission to fail and not do. So everything is not packed right, or folded right. It wasn't as if I was moving across country or another country for that matter. If it got broken, I'd glue it back together or get a new one. If it got wrinkled, I'd straighten it after I got there. If I couldn't lift or carry something, I'd put a colored code sticky note on it for others to deal with. I did hire some movers after all. For the stuff that was going to storage, there were some beefy, college students and family. I didn't NEED TO DO IT ALL.

Credit

That's the major malfunction with a person like me. It's a control, stubbornness, and pride thing. The can-do attitude just doesn't know when to quit. I've never accepted failure as an option. I had to give myself permission to fail and not do. We, as human beings, are our own worse critics. It's alright to not do some things that are physically impossible (within limits). This revelation goes against my "nothing is impossible" sign off. Some things are. Like trying to lift a 24" square box, weighing thirty pounds, balancing it, carrying it from one room to the next, and setting it down without dropping it with one working arm. It's a whole lot ungainly than a fifty-pound bag of rabbit pellets or a bale of hay. Yes, I can do that and do it quite regularly. The contents won't break if I drop it. It's also easier to hold onto.

After this revelation, I started feeling better about myself. It's crazy that I have to gibe myself permission, but it worked. I was calmer, more pleasant to be around, and at peace once again. I found my equilibrium once again. Moving away and setting up a new household is stressful by nature. The move wasn't without problems, but I could take it in stride once I'd given myself permission to fail. Lesson learned.

On a sad note, I have to say good-bye to the Stroke Survivor Tattler. After almost three years of a republishing agreement, they are closing their website. They were based out of Canada and was my first international republishing contact I had. It had grown by leaps and bounds since I found them. From the dozen or so bloggers and three expert articles on various aspects of stroke/brain injury survivors to over forty bloggers and ten experts. Hits wise it jumped over 2K a month. John Anderson and the rest of them will be missed. I'm proud to be part of such endeavor and they will forever be friends who were there when I needed them most.

Wednesday Writerly Ways ~ Give Yourself Permission...

Occasionally, you have to give yourself permission not to write. I've read so many blogs and how-tos about writing lately that basically states to be a writer you must write everyday. That just isn't true and an unrealistic goal.

You set yourself up for failure and burn out by not giving yourself a choice. On Tuesday I talked about keeping yourself free of frustration. This is another area that writers have trouble with.

You've got to play hooky every once in a while in order to experience life. Do you envision a writer's life where you have nothing but time to sit in front of your keyboard and write? But is that really what you want?

So many newbie authors express the wish to do nothing more than sit and write full-time. What is full-time? Forty hours a week, fifty, sixty? Keeping those kind of hours writing, I guarantee you'll burn out just like you do at your regular job.

I never wished to stay at home and do nothing but write. Guess what, I never did until now. Don't get me wrong. I love uninterrupted time writing and creating something from my imagination as much as any author, but there is a limit. A point when you close of your word processor, and get out to see real life.

I write from the point of view of human experiences. Yeah, I've experienced a lot in my sixty plus years on this planet, but there is so much more. A lot of times I'll scream that my life is too crazy and I wish it would slow down. That's not going to happen unless I make it happen.

I write myself a permission slip to play hooky for a day or two. I don't have to write everyday to be a writer. I take breaks of days or weeks. Am I still a writer? Yes. The creed to the left aside. Strike that. Actually, I do write something everyday, but it might not be my manuscript. It might be a blog on one of my sites. It might be a grocery list because I can be creative in the kitchen. It might be a recipe for the same reason. It might be a note to my DH (darling hubby) to remind him of something, but it is not writing as in a story.

When writing becomes something you have to do, other than a joy, why do it?  I know if you are like me, you are driven to write. Anything. Everything. It's such a pleasurable experience and you don't feel complete without doing it.. like breathing. Then why would you want to do it full-time? Wouldn't it then become work and therefore less enjoyable?

I'm delving deep towards the philosophical now. Whether you write full-time or part-time, you've got to allow yourself time off. Whether its to stop and smell the flowers, walk your dog in the park, or just veg out in front of the television. You'll come back refreshed with  a new outlook.Who knows where your next inspiration will come from. If you  don't take time off, you may miss something fantastic.

So what are you waiting for? Start writing yourself a bunch of permission slips.

Keep writing and loving the Lord.