When my dear dad suffered his second heart attack and came out of a ninety minute CPR code, he had a problem with fatigue and short term memory loss. He would get so frustrated and say "I can't stand being so out of it, CJ. I'm tired and foggy and just want to sleep the day away."
And I would reply "Dad, do you have to fly a plane today filled with puppies and orphans? Relax, rest, and just enjoy the time off from the troubles of the world. The plane will be there for you when you get your senses back."
And he would rest.
Somehow I forgot this advice, and I have been utterly and completely frustrated by my inability to function like a 52...soon to be 53...year old female person. I am wiped out, groggy, out of it, and completely exhausted, and rather than just riding it out I'm fretting and kvetching and moaning and fighting about it constantly.
Which makes me even more wiped out, groggy, out of it, etc.
So today I'm going to park the plane and just get on with it, Dearies. If I stitch...I stitch. If I don't...I don't. This whole d-chair thing is what it is and I need to quit trying to make it normal. I need to understand that (for now, anyway) it's OK for me to just...be. My plus-sized Superwoman cape needs to go on a hanger in the closet, and somebody else needs to be in charge.