It has been a busy few days. Friday, I started writing on a novel that I shelved about eight years ago. It's a historic novel and I an sticking to the knownfacts as much as possible, while inventing where facts are unknown. It's a tragic tale, but one that needs to be remembered. On Saturday (yesterday), we went visiting family and had a wonder day. UNfortunately for me, even these short visits tire me out physically, although I'm not sure why.
My pain levels have been the same as they usually are. A twinge in my back that gets sharp if I move wrong, and my feet always burn, ache, and tingle aroud a level of 6-7. I have started eating foods that are gentle on my digestion, in case I really do have gastroparesis, and so farI am doing well. I am dropping weight rather quickly at the moment, but this should start to even out soon.
I didn’t wander off this time. I’ve just been… settling. There’s a difference.
After a few days of things being off—body, routine, timing—I’ve been easing back into something that feels a little more like myself. Not rushing it. Not forcing it. Just paying attention to what actually works instead of what should work.
Turns out, the small things matter more than I like to admit. A simple meal that sits well. Water actually being finished instead of forgotten. Getting up and moving, even if it’s just to clean a corner of the room or toss out the quiet pile of “I’ll deal with that later.” Nothing dramatic, but steady.
I’m learning (again) that progress doesn’t always look like big steps forward. Sometimes it looks like not sliding backward. Sometimes it looks like noticing when something feels right and choosing to stay there a little longer. And sometimes it looks like eating four gingersnap cookies slowly and calling it a win because I didn’t overdo it.
Balance, apparently, isn’t loud. It’s quiet. Repetitive. A little stubborn. But it holds.
Still here. Still adjusting. Still choosing steady over perfect.
And honestly? That’s enough.
Until next time, peace and be safe.
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