Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Clinomania



Clinomania (n) an excessive desire to stay in bed.

Most days, I bound out of bed ready for a new day.  Not today.  Sleeping for ten hours did nothing to allay my fatigue.  Under the weight of comforters and blankets, I begin to thumb through the reasons for my lack of energy and either disregard or verify each as a possible cause.

Maybe I'm coming down with something?  I swallow hard-no sore throat. No headache either.  My stomach is OK, too.  I guess I am alright.  Just tired.  Wait, it's my thyroid.  It is true, I blame everything on my thyroid.  No.  Just tired, that's all.

My life is altered.  My brain does not function as it once did.  CS Lewis describes, "... it feels like being mildly drunk or concussed...I find it hard to take in what anyone says." I understand this all too well-this grief.

No, I am unable to function as I once did.  I often ask for help feeling like I am hoisting my widow-status for service.  I find that I have trouble carrying loads of wood up the cellar stairs, so I don't think I ought to try to replace the washer in the basement with another in storage.  I need my boys.  Having always had a fear of chopping off multiple fingers and toes, I won't handle a hatchet or an axe, either. I call on a family friend who is a real Maine Lumberjack.  Physical challenges abound, but so do the intellectual ones.   Sometimes, I trip over my words when I speak. I often have to ask for things to be repeated as my brain can only take so much information in.  Rather than become victim to despair, I recognize that this is grief.  No one expects me to be fixed.  Things will get better in time.  Right now I need to be gentle.  I need to treat myself as I would a dear friend. Tonight after a hot shower, I think I will put myself to bed with a good book and a cup of chamomile tea.  I have an excessive desire to go to bed and stay there. That is more than alright.

7 comments:

elsie said...

I have no words for you. This is a difficult place to be and I don't have experience with it, yet. I think you gave yourself good advice, treat yourself like you would a friend. I'm so sorry for your loss, I can't imagine it.

Linda B said...

I'm glad you're being easy on yourself, taking care to ask for help. Even in your messy thoughts, you're trying to find a new way to live. Hugs for this day, Barbara!

travelinma said...

Elsie: This is a journey that is sometimes wrought with difficulty. The operative word is sometimes. There is always the undercurrent of loss and sometimes I can kick my legs and paddle to the surface to take a breath of fresh air. The realization is that you cannot do anything to change the course. You plod along with lots of help and hope for each moment. Thank you for reading Elsie.

Linda B: Self care is something I have been working on FOVEVER. This has kind of put life into perspective. I am more compassionate with myself and others. I so appreciate your visits and your kind words. Wishing you a day of sweet discoveries.

Terje said...

Grieving is different for everyone. Your words show how deep and challenging it is. At the same time you remind yourself to be gentle, and this is the best advice you can give yourself. I think it takes courage to share your feelings so honestly. Have you read Bonnie's slice today? She wrote a love letter to her lost husband. Maybe reading her words will help help you too. Sending warmth and peace your way.

Anita Ferreri said...

This is a hard chapter of life filled with ups and downs and twists and turns in a minute in a changing all the times way. Recognizing how much effort it takes to do your "new" job in a "new" way without a partner in crime really is exhausting! I'm glad you were able to recognize the need for a little extra sleep and kindness towards YOU! I hope the warmth of spring's sun brings you some hope for more ups in the days ahead. Virtual hugs!

Judy said...

Grief is so difficult and hard to understand, let alone deal with. Your writing is one way to help you get thru this period in your life. Yes, be gentle with yourself, ask for help, and keep sharing your thoughts. Hugs and prayers.

Anonymous said...

My life is altered. My brain does not function as it once did. Yes. That describes it exactly. Maribeth Batcho