Searching for the Next Well

I don’t know about the truth. I only know how I feel. 
Agatha Christie, The ABC Murders


Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.
James 1:2-3

So, you guys. I’m prickly right now. About health, about pain, about advice or questions from well-meaning people. Even though I’m making some surprising progress with appointments and scheduling procedures to find things out (hellooooooo colonoscopy!), it’s all feeling a bit desperate. 

It’s harder and harder to focus on the positive. Or even do things that supposedly have a positive impact. Today, for example, I needed to get out of the house. Like, for reals. Yesterday I was down with Horrible and Bad Cramps that stopped me from moving around the house, let alone outside of it. So today, a beautiful and gorgeous sunny day only found in the Pacific Northwest, a walk sounded ideal and even necessary. 

Inspired by a friend who did the same this morning, we drove to the Boulevard Park, a paradise of water and green lawns and big rocks and lovely walkways. But everyone else in the world had the same idea for this afternoon, too!  We finally made our way to the boardwalk—I was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people, dogs, bikes, scooters, skateboards. I can’t remember feeling that claustrophobic in the open air! Touching shoulders with nearly every passerby, and being told “BIKES!” from behind. Shudder. You would have thought all that exposure to vitamin D (the first from actual sunshine in months) would have helped somewhat, but alas. More aches and pains descended, and coupled with the intense struggles of the last few weeks, and well, you have a disappointing Sunday. 

The patience necessary for all these things isn’t always at the ready, I admit. It drains away with the daily exertions of Life. I’m waiting for anything to improve. Anything at all. I don’t always know how to find my next well. I can’t trust dietary changes or exercising or rest or surgery or any new health claims. It’s so hard to find my center in all this chaos—it’s always been so key to me to be at peace within my head and soul. I want to find again the things that bring me peace and happiness and meaning. I want to discover new things that inspire creativity and deep purpose. I want to feed my soul even while my body is holding me back. I want to sink into Scripture again and find peace. I want to experience again the redemptive love of Jesus. 

I want to read my books and write my thoughts and watch my murder shows and drink my coffee without guilt—to recharge so I can be fully present with the ones I love. I want to make beautiful things and have a hospitable home for others to come into. I want to move my body in exercise without feelings of ‘is this enough?’ or ‘is this too much’? or ‘is this even right??’ I want to shed the guilt that comes with chronic conditions. I’m constantly judging myself for canceling on people, for resting, for asking for help when I long for independence, for saying no too many times, for asking people to come over instead of being able to go out. I want it to be ok if my house isn’t perfect, if my clothes aren’t folded the minute they come out of the dryer, if my face shows the strain of chronic illness. 

I am not sure what the next few weeks hold, what with various procedures and appointments. Will we find anything conclusive? PS. Please don’t let it be IBD or IBS. Please please please. Regardless of what we find, I need my peace of mind to be anchored in something other than medical know-how. I have a feeling that any road to any sort of recovery is going to be long and annoying. I must keep searching for deeper wells of renewal and strength. This is where the real struggle is—because there will always be hard things, there will always be the temptation to give in, and give up on hope. There is always a choice to keep hoping and searching for the good things in life, the things that bring us hope and peace, and I want to make that choice every day. 

It's the Little Things

Your albatross, let it go, let it go,
Your albatross shoot it down, shoot it down
When you just can't shake
The heavy weight of living
-Bastille, The Weight of Living, Pt 1

Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where
moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, 
but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven where neither moth
nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. 
For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. 
-Jesus of Nazareth, Matthew 6:19-21

This might sound dumb, but I just CLEANED MY HOUSE. 

All day long, I’ve been looking forward to coming home (duh) and CLEANING (weird. also unusual). As soon as I got home, I put in the second-to-last load of laundry from the weekend that didn’t quite get done, and changed into home clothes. Then I found the duster and went to work. I do wonder why most of my furniture is dark—note to self: spray paint or get lighter furniture that won’t show AS much dust. Geez, it pops up so fast. After dusting the bookshelves and the coffee table and the TV stand, I heaved out the vacuum and got going on the carpets. I found myself feeling a little perhaps TOO proud of myself for vacuuming when I realized that the thing was set to HOSE not CARPET. Oops and that’s what I get for feeling smirky. At least I was still in the first room I started. While I didn’t get under ALL the furniture, I did move the coffee table and the dining room chairs, so I get major points. Of course. Then because I was still moving, I wiped down the bottom shelf of the fridge. Because you know what collects down there. Shudder. 

I can’t even tell you how I feel right now. It’s probably like how Julius Caesar must have felt upon his triumphant entry back in Rome after conquering everything and everyone. 

It felt so good to accomplish some Real Things on my stagnant To-Do List. I’m forever making impossible To-Do Lists for myself—impossible even if I didn’t have chronic pain—and feeling bad about myself because I usually just end up on the couch staring around my house at all the things I was GOING TO DO, or watching another B-movie because A) Duh, and B) it’s easier than feeling bad about not DOING ENOUGH. Ben-Who-is-Truly-My-Better-Half does about 89.4854398674% of everything around the house, and I am sooooooo thankful. He cooks, he cleans, he shops, he vacuums, he does bathrooms, he is the Man. I always want to do more, though. I want to pitch in and “do my part,” whatever that means. Since we’ve been married, my ability to help out has diminished INCREDIBLY, and sometimes it’s super hard to fight the feelings of inadequacy and guilt. Feelings of panic roll in: “Isn’t this a PARTNERSHIP? I DON’T FEEL LIKE I’M GIVING ENOUGH. OMG HE’S DOING EVERYTHING. HE’S NOT EVEN COMPLAINING. HE’S SCRUBBED THE TUB OUT THE LAST 73 TIMES. I AM A WRETCHED WIFE. WOE IS ME FOREVER AND EVER AMEN.’’

But while I was wiping out the fridge, on my knees surrounded by cold bottles of bbq sauce and hard cider and salsa, I found myself asking, “Is this what makes me a good wife? A good person? A good anything?” Sure, I mean, it’s great to be able to move around enough to wave the vacuum around and swipe at dusty surfaces. I LOVE THAT. It makes me feel so normal and even thankful to be able to indulge in a little clean-up. As a chronic pain feeler, anytime I get to participate in daily activities, I am overwhelmed by gratitude and a sense of accomplishment. Did I make it to work? LOOK AT ME GO! Did I shower today? HECK YEAH! Did I go to dinner with friends? OMG I’M NORMAL. Did I go shopping and get some errands done? WATCH OUT WONDER WOMAN. 

I think I waste a lot of time, though, thinking that it’s DOING all these things will make me a good wife, a good friend, a good whatever. And doing is sure part of leading a good life. But it’s not what makes me a good wife. I need to ask myself other questions, like did I listen to Ben today? Did I tell him I love him yet today? Not did I make the bed today, but did I make the most out of my time with him today, whatever that might look like? These questions are also flowing over into other parts of my life—did I make the most out of my time with my friend? Did I give 100% at work today? Am I looking for things and people to be thankful for, even when I can’t get off the couch and reach for the duster? I’m slowly, ever so slowly realizing that I can make shorter To-Do lists with an open mind, knowing that it’s probably NOT the end of the world if I didn’t Do IT ALL. And that checking things off a list doesn’t make really make me the person I want to be. 

Because I don’t want my heart, my treasures to be tied up in clean floors. Or In having a tidy pantry. Or a picture-perfect, Pinterest-perfect bathroom. I don’t want to get to the end of this life and look back on my years and only have some scrubbed tiles of which to be proud. I want to enjoy time with my Ben, with my friends and family and co-workers. I want to enjoy belonging to Jesus—I want my heart to care about what He does, to invest my life and heart in what He’s about—loving Him and loving others. I want to be able, at the end, to say I was overjoyed at my life and the things and people He’s given me. I want to be faithful in the small things, like housekeeping when I can, and know He can use something even like that to bring me to fuller truth. So here’s to striking when the iron is hot and getting things done when possible, and to living life to the fullest even when our lists are long and we’re not able to get it all done. Because we are more than ok because we are loved by Jesus, more than ok when we love fully.