Hitting the Wall

Yesterday was a full day with the library (story time was fun, and even the baby enjoyed it), my annual exam at the midwife (not particularly fun), shopping, having my SIL Sarah and her son over in the evening, and then watching Ella Enchanted (loved it!) with DH before cleaning up the kitchen and going to bed late (or early in the morning, depending on how you look at it).

The girls wrote their first real letters today. After some practice writing letters and numbers on worksheets, and working in phonics workbooks, I decided to give them some stationery and let them try writing letters to Aunt J who is off at college. They came out really cute.

I helped very little, mostly with spelling when asked for AJ and showing MM on another piece of paper how to write what she wanted to say. The girls did a great job actually writing a couple of sentences each. Well, I can tell what they say, anyway. Hopefully J will be able to interpret the scrawled letters and imaginative spelling. I found it gratifying that they both wanted to tell Aunt J how much they love school. I guess I must be doing something right. :)

We had fun taking a walk up to the mailbox to mail the envelope with our three letters, and then I made bread while they had lunch.

The last few weeks have really gone well. I've been enjoying life and feeling like things are starting to normalize and get under control. This afternoon I was planning to get some housework and decluttering done while the kids napped and/or had quiet time.

Then I hit the wall. Hard.

It came with no warning, which is unusual for me. Usually when the fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome flare up I can feel it building over a few days. That gives me a chance to cut back and try to get more rest to hopefully minimize or stave it off.

But this time there was no real warning. Of course, there was that nagging voice in the back of my head saying things like, "Come on now . . . just because you've gone for weeks on very little sleep without a bad flare-up yet doesn't mean you're invincible--no matter what you might think." But I kept thinking, Oh, tonight or tomorrow I'll start going to bed as soon as the baby does, and I'll be fine.

All morning I felt pretty good, and then suddenly this afternoon I reached into the energy (or adrenaline) well and it was stone-dry. I just couldn't go on. My muscles started stiffening up and the pain jumped above its normal "annoying but tolerable" level to where I could no longer ignore it. I had to stop in my tracks.

I left things half-done and collapsed into bed while MM and Baby E slept and AJ played a Winnie-the-Pooh computer game. I needed to put away the food and dishes from lunch, pick up the house and prepare dinner before the babysitter arrived so DH and I could go to our fellowship group. But I just couldn't.

DH got home after work and fixed a quick stir-fry while I dragged myself upright and fed the baby, and we managed to get to group. Now we're home and I'm hoping a hot bath will help the pain and muscle stiffness enough to let me get a good night's sleep. I have to be at the mothers' support group bright and early in the morning, ready to lead my small group.

I guess all those weeks of sleep deprivation, with the addition of a couple of weeks of doubtful nutrition are finally cashing in. (I ran out of vitamins and the prescription had expired, and it seems there's almost nothing I can eat, between my own food intolerances and Baby E's--all nuts, legumes, soy, dairy, chocolate, avacados and a few other things are off limits.)

I am really frustrated with myself for not making a better point of getting enough rest and nutrition. I have got to learn not to push myself quite so hard. Sometimes, sleep is more important than not leaving dirty dishes in the sink when I go to bed.

I guess I played FM/CFS roulette one too many times. Now I'm just hoping I can drag myself back up out of it quickly. If I manage it well, it doesn't really affect my life too much. But I learned the hard way how debilitating it can become if I don't take care of myself.

I hate having to take good care of myself, LOL. I think I tend to think I'm not worth it. In a way it's sort of a good thing to have my own personal alarm system that lets me know in no uncertain terms that I have to be more careful about rest, nutrition, stress management and basic self-care.

OK, OK, I hear you. I get the message. Now go away.