On June 9th we moved into our new apartment. When our house first sold, we talked of relocating. We still might. But the time wasn't right and as we got closer and closer to moving day, it became obvious it wasn't going to happen this year. After checking into the outrageous cost of renting a two-bedroom apartment in this area, still close to John's work, we thought it might be cheaper to buy. For a short time, we considered buying again, but our life was still up in the air as far as where I would feel better and where we will live long-term down the road, and our sanity eventually brought us back to the rental option. We talked about a 6-month lease so we could continue to pursue other options, but in our hearts, we both felt that God was saying a year.
The thought of living in an apartment after owning a house was a bit of a downer. Mainly yard space and freedom of creativity. But we ended up with a lovely 2 bedroom apartment in a mostly (for an apartment and even for this area in general) quiet, out of the way location, lots of trees and common grass areas, a pool and playground, and my favourite: a balcony. The complex is only 2 stories all around, so it is not too high up and the sliding glass doors let in floods of sunlight. That wee bit of outdoor space to call our own makes the difference between a prison and a retreat. We quite like it here, actually.
I got hit with a flu-bug within days of moving. I haven't been that sick in years. It was topped up yesterday with my first earache since toddler-hood. But other than that, my pain is already subsiding. I get up in the mornings without stiffness and debilitating joint pain. And my feet aren't swelling up as quickly when I'm standing. Not bad for a few days away.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Living with this pain has become such a way of life for me, I almost forget what it's like to be "normal." This mental adaption has been a blessing in the last year when I've been at my worse, but a bit discouraging, too. Of course, I want to get better! Desperately. But I feel my drive has weakened-- not to a point of apathy, but a state of...perhaps resignation. Less of a craving. It's hard to look forward to something that you can't really remember. I mean, what will it be like to cook without taking multiple breaks or sitting in a chair while I work? And to cook more than one fast meal a day? What will it be like to sit on the floor and play games with Joshua? To go for long walks with my family? All the simple things I used to take for granted, now it's almost overwhelming. It's a life my brain can't comprehend. I know, what a twisted mentality! I'm sure it will wear off as I begin making steps towards wholeness. If my pain was constant, I'm sure I'd feel differently, but when I'm sitting in a chair, where I've learned to live most of my life from, I can be symptom-free 90% of the time, other than painful, aching joints on humid days. I've just...adapted. To this.
It takes so much focus and concentration to be me, to move, to walk, to get up from a chair, pick something off the floor-- there is no aspect of my life that isn't affected-- that I feel like to NOT have to think and to just DO, it seems like a crazy thing. A notion I'll quickly get over, no doubt.
I'm almost afraid to post these crazy thoughts. I know they can't make much sense. I guess it's the same as an able-bodied person trying to imagine life with PGP/SPD.
The unpacking is going slowly, of course. Every day that we're here, I'm able to do a little more, but that's still not much. When we're done, I'll post some pictures. In the meantime, I may come back with more words. :-)