In the last couple of months, I’ve been feeling my baseline energy reserves getting smaller. My legs have started to feel… weak? I’m getting to the point where I think I’m going to need to bust out my wheelchair to get to the postbox. I mean, it’s there to use, and it would probably make my life easier once I get my head around how to use it without flying into oncoming traffic. And, heh, getting my head around setting it up, which is a step my brain isn’t ready to sort out.
But yeah, it’s not just even outside the house. I find myself making smaller and less frequent trips around the house, ’cause it’s just… harder. I know a lot of my spoonie friends are bedbound by default, and like… stubbornness keeps me upright and in my chair. I don’t spend time in bed unless I’m sleeping, or reading myself to sleep (or that other thing that’s fun), so the idea of being in bed during waking hours is just… my version of hell. Add in that naps and I don’t get along… yeah. Maybe it’s just a bad month, and I’ll feel a bit better soon.
Other than that, it’s my anniversary of moving here. I’d never been to the UK before, but I knew as soon as my life started to lead me here, that I was on the way home. I certainly feel like I made the right choice all those years ago.