We as CFers tend to be a stubborn and independent bunch. I am no exception.
This week has been a lot of fun for me! I have been decorating my boyfriend's daughter's room for her for her 8th birthday (which is Friday) while she is on vacation with her Nana in Florida. She adores pink and princesses so I of course did just that. Her walls are pink and one is chocolate brown. Then her white bunk beds and new white bookcases look fabulous on the brown wall. I got new bedding, new curtains and re-arranged the whole room. Now it looks like a little princess' room. I can't wait until Tuesday when she gets home so she can see it!
Of course with all of this work comes th CF side of life. My chest hurts, my back throbs and I haven't been able to catch my breath since Monday. OK that last one is a bit of an exaggeration but you know what I mean. I huff and wheeze and struggle all day to breathe, yet I refuse to stop. It's hard not being able to move your own things around so a part of me insisted that I do this all on my own, no matter the cost. And I felt like I needed to make up for my inability to move my belongings.
This past weekend I moved the rest of my stuff up from my mom's house in PA. I was lucky enough to have my friend Tina come down with me to help. It was nice having someone else in the truck for the ride up this time. Usually it is just me and it does get boring. And I would have been really bored since the cig lighters didn't work so I couldn't use my iPod. Anyway, packing the truck just was not in the stars for me. I was so SOB after moving a few books, light ones too, that I had to stop and watch. It SUCKS. Being on the sidelines for things like that really get to me. I am supposed to be able to do it all on my own and when I can't I feel incompetent. Each move it gets worse too. Last time it was only the book boxes and really heavy stuff I had to avoid This time it was pretty much everything. I did unload some of the boxes into the house on my own and then Peter helped me take the rest to the basement. I carried them to the top of the steps and he took them down. But even the 20 feet from the truck to the stairs wore me out super fast. I was leaning on the door in no time. It depresses me.
I know this isn't the first time I have written about this and I know it won't be the last either. I just wish it would all go away so I could do the heavy manual lifting and moving I am used to doing. Depending on someone else to do it is not my cup of tea. But I insist on pushing myself until I absolutely can not breathe or until I am forced, by the people helping, to stop and relax.
Stubborn? You know it...and I will be till the day I die...in like 30 years :)