Friday, May 25, 2018

I Woke Up, Realized It Was Friday, And Groaned...

Who does that? Apparently me.

Before May began I knew it was going to be a busy month—and I mean busy—not productive or active or any other 'ive' word you can possibly imagine. Busy. A writing opportunity arose at the end of April. My last editing course—the final project—started on May 2. My youngest son turned eight. May 2-4 happened. I volunteered to scribe for the EQAO (which stands for Education Quality and Accountability Office) standardized testing for six consecutive mornings. I had doctor and dentist appointments. We carted the kids to swimming, tutoring, and soccer. Buddy needed his summer haircut. And all the regular life stuff.

I knew what May was going to be like. I knew. And yet, for all my planning prowess, I failed to schedule May's blog posts. So... This morning, I woke up, realized it was Friday—the day I post my (usually) weekly blog—and groaned. I missed May 11 because we had our son's birthday party on the 12th. I missed May 18th because of the Victoria Day long weekend. I didn't have an excuse at the ready for not posting today. So, here I am.

Everyone is busy. Life is busy. Sometimes, busy means productive—I dedicated a whole post to that in February—but sometimes busy just means getting through the day, putting one foot in front of the other, until what needs done gets done. My husband and I make a great team. Between the two of us, we cover the kids and the house. The kids help more too, usually with incentives.

It's the 25th, and we're almost through the month of May. I submitted my final editing project today—fingers crossed—and checked that item off my list. I have three more mornings of scribing, but no more appointments so ***fingers crossed again*** I'm hoping to finish my writing project—if my health, and life, cooperate.

Despite our best efforts, we constantly dodge the wrench in our plans. I think we run in 'Plan B' mode most of the time. I'm getting better at rolling with it. Maybe? Since 2012, my health has taken me on a rollercoaster ride of decline. In September 2014, I wrote a post on losing the war against stress. Years later, I am better at listening to my body, managing my condition, and carrying on, but I am still far from home free. I am trapped in a series of bad, and worse, days. Every day is different. I can't anticipate a symptom attack or how long it will last. My typical day is best described as 'random', and this has been my reality for five-and-a-half years.

Our plan is no plan. It's a 'do what you can' approach. No matter what I do, I suffer the consequences. Even having fun is hard because I know, without a doubt, I will pay the price for the next day or two or three. But life goes on, and so shall I.

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