What do I want from 2022

I love January. It feels fresh and new. Like pajamas smelling sweet and clean from the dryer. The year is ripe with potential and anything feels possible. 

I was reflecting and asking myself this morning, "What do I want out of 2022?" Sometimes I think I know what my goals are, but are they really MY goals? Or just goals that society inflicts upon me?

This year marks the third year that I've been unable to work. That feels like a long time. A big deal. Then I remind myself that working on myself IS VERY HARD WORK! It takes all of my time every day just to live. What my doctor calls "tasks of daily living." They are a challenge for me.

So here's WHAT I WANT out of 2022:

• Continue asking questions and pushing my medical team for the best care there is.
  
  
• Keep on keepin on with the weight loss and healthy eating. 
  
  
• Be there as much as I can be mentally for my family and friends.
  
  
• Carve out time for social connectedness in real life (as much as is safe to do and as much as I can do.)
  
  
• Help Max meet his great puppy potential for a full and happy life (free of anxiety).
  
  
• Develop the remains of our front yard garden and completely finish that project.

Dreams and Reality

I often lay in bed and question what I can and cannot do. I picture myself going for a run. Or even just walking around my block. I ask myself if I'm sure I really can't do these things. When was the last time I tried? How do I know that I can't do it unless I give it a go?

In my head I strap on my tennis shoes (that now belong to my husband because we have the same size feet and he's... well... able bodied.) Then I go for a light jog around my neighborhood just like I used to.

Suddenly I'm no longer running, I'm surfing (something just as realistic). I'm up on a long board alone zipping over clear teal water. I wave hello to the fish and turtles under me. 

Next it's stairs. How many stairs can I climb? By myself? While holding the rail? Not at all? I picture myself in a stadium zipping up endless steps. I'm wearing short bike shorts and looking like a trainer from Biggest Loser (and not the contestant body I currently have).

When I wake up I decide to try something out.
I don't strap on my tennis shoes, or scrounge up a surfboard.
But I eye our kitchen step stool. The one with the big handle.
I figure I can go up and down that and it can count as a "step."
How many can I do?

Well... Without holding onto the handle I can go up and down 4 times. Four steps on my own. Holding onto the handle I can manage 7 (which impressed me!) Seven steps, but I feel my arm and leg muscles burn for about two hours after. Like I was surfing. Not on a kitchen stool.

I like knowing my physical limits. It helps me mentally cope with being a chronically ill woman. It can also help me when communicating with my doctors. In the past when I was asked how many steps can I walk up my answer was always "I don't know, I avoid them."

I'm sure the answers will change, but for now I know where I stand. What my body is capable of. I shudder to think of underestimating myself in any way. Avoiding things just because I think I can't do them.

Maybe tonight I'll dream of scuba diving?