So, I was discharged from hospital Wednesday last week, much to my relief. Yes, I needed the rehab, but after I spent last weekend at home on weekend leave I realised I was seriously suffering from cabin fever – I spent a lot of each day walking up and down the ward and corridors, couldn’t settle to read, and pretty much counted the hours to visiting time and bedtime when I could escape for a while. But I’m out now, and all that is behind me. I’m also back in my flat, as by the time I left I was mobile and independent enough to live on my own rather than at the parents’. I’ve still got follow-up appointments to attend and I’m getting outpatient physio, but I’m on the home stretch to being back to where I was before I got ill.
So why the suckage? Aside from I’m being paid ESA rather than wages. Yes, I get to stay in bed longer, I have a lot of time to do the things I’ve been
avoiding unable to do while I was working – sorting my boxes of paperwork and dealing with the boxes of random stuff in my bedroom that I haven’t unpacked since the move – as well as stuff like start on the quilt I’m going to be making, finish the spring cleaning, catch up on my blog reading, post more here, get back into my spirituality, read my pile of To Read books… The list goes on. And as I’m signed off from work for two months I don’t even have to worry about looking for work, which part of my brain keeps thinking I need to do. But frankly I’d rather be getting up at 6am again and going to work up in town like I should have been doing before I got ill.
Part of that is because I’m still a lot weaker and get fatigued easily, but a lot of it is also looking at the boxes of stuff and the piles of crap in my room (there are areas of my life where I am not organised, my bedroom floor being one of them) and whining ‘do I have to?’ at myself. Yes, yes I do. And not just because I’ve got Kizzy and her old flatmate visiting for several days next weekend and they need somewhere to sleep, or because even if I moved the alcohol collection off my desk I still wouldn’t be able to use it because the footwell’s packed with stuff, but because the reason I haven’t dealt with that stuff yet is because I was working during the day and therefore tired during the evening, and at weekends I was either busy seeing friends or similar, or wanting to rest and self-care for a couple of days. I just didn’t have the time.
Well now I have the time, and my friends are providing the pressure I need to actually get me started. Another of the things I’ve been meaning to do during my convalescence is seriously do more to enrich my spiritual life – meditate, spend more time at my altar, carry on with my 366 project, use my tarot decks, make use of my prayer bead collection – partly because I want to, partly because it should mean that when I’m back working I’ll have a foundation of daily practice that I can (hopefully) build on when I start work again that won’t just disappear when things get hectic, but also because I need to. I have had so many kicks up the arse from my Deities over the past few days it’s getting ridiculous, and a lot of it has been through the content of the books I’ve read recently. So from the religious discussions taking place in C. J. Sansom’s novel Lamentation to the descriptions of magic in the Dresden Files series, to wanting to reread the All Souls’ trilogy next I’ve got both God and Freyja poking me to, y’know, actually get off my arse and start doing things again. Planning is all very well, and I’m good at planning what I’m going to do, but it’s the starting of it that I’ve never been very good at. Take (somewhat embarrassingly) most of my uni essays for example – I could write up the plan of what I was going to write, I could go through all the books and pull out quotes to use in my essay, and I would put off and put off actually sitting down and starting to write. Once I’d got about 500 words in I was fine, and could write for hours at a stretch, but it was that avoidance of first beginning that meant I was usually writing for hours at a stretch due to pulling all-nighters with said essays being due in the following day. I was a terrible student sometimes.
So, another reason to tidy my bedroom – my copies of Methodist Worship and Wicca: A Year and a Day are buried somewhere in there.