Every day of mine is full of things to do, places to go and time to rest. The last of the three is the most difficult to do, but I do it because I have to. It used to always be the least important thing to do because my plate was always full, my day was planned and my things to do needed to be done. It used to be that it was all about go to work, drive the kids here and there, throw in a wash and plan dinner. Now, it’s all about get up, see the youngest drive off to school, do a few chores around the house, maybe read the newspaper and think about my day and when I will rest. Do I have the energy to tidy the house or walk the dogs? Can I pull it together and swing by the market for a few fresh vegetables or should I thaw something frozen and settle on that for supper? So many questions, very few answers, right away. The difficulty is all about me. The me I am now. The me with finite energy, the me with Multiple Sclerosis, almost 20 years out. The hard working career woman is no longer. The co worker friends would call “rikochet rabbit” no longer skidaddles. I am a home body that one would think has nothing to do. But my plate is still full, my day is still planned and I still have plenty I want to get done. I can probably swing by the store for veggies if I nap after my morning chores. I can probably walk the dogs after lunch, if I do some stretching exercises after my nap. I can probably have dinner on the table by 6, if I put my feet up after my walk. And I can still be me, even if so much has changed and resting is sometimes the most gratifying serving on my plate.
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