I'm on Fire

Whenever someone asks how I'm doing lately, I think of the line from Evita, where Eva Peron, who is dying of cancer, states, "Some days are fine, some a little bit harder." That is the understatement of understatements. No days are truly fine, and "a little bit harder" means "nearly impossible to survive." Even now, nearly five months after my husband's death, some days are manageable, if not exactly fine, and some days are merely blind groping through the necessities of life and no more.

But I have learned to forgive myself for the bad days, and to take advantage of the good days. So when I have a good day, I try to do everything that I can possibly find the motivation to do, to check off as many items on my "to do" list as I can. When I have a good day, I'm on fire. 

Sometimes that looks like scrubbing the bathrooms and doing several loads of laundry. Sometimes that looks like making a bunch of phone calls and writing a bunch of emails and filling out a bunch of forms. Sometimes that looks like decorating the house for the holidays. Sometimes that looks like mowing the lawn and raking the driveway. Sometimes that looks like cooking and baking up a storm. Sometimes that looks like picking a corner of the house and organizing it. And, just as importantly, sometimes that looks like curling up by the fireplace with a book and a cup of coffee followed by a soak in the hot tub, followed by a few hours listening to podcasts and doing crossword puzzles, and ending with curling up by the fireplace with a book and a glass of wine. Self care is hard on a bad day, but it's important enough to make sure it happens on a good day. 

Sometimes I feel like I'm continually dropping the ball, like I should have done more of the practical things by now, that I'm behind some imaginary deadline. But every time I start to feel that way, someone comments on how well I'm doing, or how much I'm doing, or expresses admiration for everything I've done so far, and I am reminded that I am my own worst critic. I see myself as a dumpster fire, but those around me - those with clearer eyes and a less biased perspective - see me as "on fire."

Maybe I am a dumpster fire on my bad days, but maybe that's not a bad thing. There's certainly plenty of things in my life right now that could use a cleansing fire. Maybe the bad days are there to purge my emotional dumpster. But they leave just enough fuel that on the good days, I'm still on fire.