I fell into my filing cabinets.
I laughed a little and looked down to see if I tripped over anything in particular "or nah", as the teens say.
Nah.
Bending my head down resulted in electric shocks. Then stabbing sensations in my face. Plus that all too familiar disco ball sensation.
So I went home for the day. There went 2 of my "sick hours".
That was: "Falling, Stabbing, Spinning Friday"
Over the weekend, I slept more than most people sleep in a week. It was a wonderful weekend, however. No one belittled my son during his double header soccer games. And actually? He had some great plays, which brought him joy :)
That was: "Sleeping Saturday/Sunday"
Fast forward to Monday...
I couldn't think. Like at all. And the guilt I felt was overwhelming. The self-doubt and self-bullying thoughts entered my mind and gave me a little bit of thinking ability. The wrong kind. All I could focus on was all I was not. Like "good enough". Or just "enough", really. To combat this, I decided to take a walk around the building. I had amazing conversations with people I ran into (thankfully, not literally) along the way. And I focused my tasks on work that needed done, but required less thought than usual. Filing, organizing, stuffing envelopes, receiving papercuts, stuff like that.
That was: "Mental Fog Monday"
Tuesday was unremarkable. It was more like a mash up of Sleeping Saturday/Sunday plus Mental Fog Monday, but in a much lesser capacity.
Oh, I did actually have tremors. All, "This is your egg. This is your egg, on the floor, because of MS. Any questions?"
I was sure I was on the downswing. "Tremor Tuesday".
Today, I posted this deep thought from my morning devotional on the book about how there are times that our "best" isn't enough, but that it doesn't mean we are not enough. Here's a clip of the devo for all us highly performance driven individuals:
"God wanted me to humble myself before Him and be honest about my limitations." and "...some days my best isn’t good enough, but it’s all I have to give."
And then I went to work. I immediately dug in with a huge project that had no option but to be completed today. Yet, as I worked, I began to lose the ability to read the font on my screen. I squinted. I opened. Squint...open...washed out eyes with cold water (like that would help?)...squinted again...and my screen morphed into like...something similar to this:
The frustration became so great that I sought out a friend to pray with. I stood in her office, fuming, pressing my fingers into my eyes to see if that helped at all with the pain at least. Tearing up a little. Positive I couldn't finish my project. Replaying the morning devo, but hating it all the same. Until she interrupted my thought process by asking, "can I be your eyes?"
Be my eyes? Hmph. That was something I hadn't thought of. I could read numbers from my paper reports out loud, or point at where they were if I couldn't...and she could type. That could most definitely work!
Together, we worked to finish the project. I wrapped another few things up that didn't require a computer screen. Then? I left work, exchanging the last few hours of my workday with a coma nap. How am I seeing the screen right now? Eh, could be better. But...
Tomorrow is a new day. A new day to be thankful for what I could accomplish today. But maybe to be extra thankful for what I couldn't, because it was a moment in which I was reminded of who God has placed all around me to walk with me through this. And the opportunity for me to put into practice that whole "humble yourself before the Lord" thing that I'm REALLY bad at. I'm always stuck on "I got it" and "I can do it myself". Until I can't. And that just ends up in a lot of unnecessary and misplaced guilt:
Thanks, Lord!
"If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble." - Ecclesiastes 4:10 NLT
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