Yesterday I wrote you a beautiful blog post. It said exactly what I wanted to say, and how I wanted to say it. Unfortunately I managed to accidentally hit a combination of keystrokes which made it disappear, apparently without trace or possible retrieval. I suspect I hit Ctrl instead of Shift, and then some other stuff… Without knowing what I hit, I have even less chance of recalling it from the ether, so we will declare it lost.
Therefore, you get the streamlined version today. It won’t be as beautifully crafted but it might manage to communicate something, I hope.
Drifter and I both are doing well physically. I no longer ache constantly from the drastic rebuilding of muscle, which is nice. We went for a long walk at the weekend and we both found it easier and moved more quickly than when we did the same walk 2-3 weeks ago. For the first time I managed a week including 5 full-time working days, 5 days of busy commuting and 5 days of exercising Drifter to a reasonably high standard for at least 30 every time and remained functional and useful around and outside that activity.
While I’m proud of that, I’m not as excited as I might have hoped or expected.
My body is doing really well, and that’s great, but there’s an unexpected impact on my mind. Because nothing is ever simple.
I couldn’t understand why I had a slight but growing feeling of unease.Then I realised that for vast chunks of the last year my brain was running the show. I couldn’t do anything physical but for most of the time I was ill or recovering my brain was in great shape. While I couldn’t ride, I learnt more dressage theory, read more and planned future rides. While I couldn’t read books (too heavy to hold up) I devoured internet articles and blogs. When I couldn’t crochet I learnt stitches in my head and planned patterns and designed concepts. When I occasionally felt the need for company there were blogs and fora to entertain me, or audiobook autobiographies. My mind was actually pretty happy about all this. While I won’t say that I never got bored, it was a very very rare occurrence. My mind got used to being in control of how it spent its time. Now my body’s back, and my mind has to share again.
Yesterday I was interested in the etymology of the word cloud. My mind is used to instant gratification but no, I couldn’t just google it because I was driving. So I had to wait until I finished driving … but I was driving from work to the stable, so it had to wait until after I’d ridden the horse (and done all related tasks). But then I had to drive home from the stables, and feed the cats, and clear up cat sick and get showered and make food and eat it and then … then I was too tired to care about the etymology of “cloud” anymore. I suppose I can see why my mind is annoyed, but it’s going to have to get used to it again.
The other reason it’s a bit upset is the whole introvert thing. I score off the chart in “are you an introvert?” tests, which I tell you to prove that I’m not exaggerating when I say: people are exhausting; I need more alone time if I am to continue functioning.
While I’m perfectly capable of dealing with full-time work + horse + all the related people stuff, when I was doing it before I’d worked up to it over a long period of time. Now it seems a bit sudden. I’m not sure what I’m doing to do about this, but I accept that I do need to do something. The most direct solution seems to be to stick a sign on my head asking people only to interact with me if they have something that really needs saying, but I have a feeling that would just lead to extra interactions while everyone asked about my sign. So that may not be the best solution. I need a new plan.