Day 222 of 365

As I worked through my day at home today, it hit me. My life has changed and I don't know if it'll ever go back to the way it was before.

I realized it when I was sitting in the office chair, at the dining room table, while eating. For every meal and every single time I sit at the dining room table I have to use the padded office chair. Ever since I hurt my back two years ago the straight back wooden chairs that go with the set - the ones that everyone else sits in - are too hard on my back. I tried putting in a seat cushion once but it didn't help.

I realized it as I took a shower. When I had my knee replacement a year and a half ago, I had to have a shower chair. When I started using that shower chair, I noticed it was easier to take a shower. Not just because of the knee issue, but because of the back issue. I'm unable to stand but a few minutes and bending over is rough. Using a shower chair allows me to take a shower without as much back pain as before.

I realized it when I used the bathroom on the elevated seat. It was suggested I use one when I had the knee replacement, and again it seemed to help keep the back a bit calmer. I tend to delay my restroom trips at work (I know, it's a bad practice) because it hurts the back getting up.

I realized it as I was sitting down and shaving my legs. Long gone are the days of standing and reaching.

I realized it as I squeezed the toothpaste with the heel of my hand.

I realized it as I was tying my shoes. At noon. It took me that long to get my fingers to be able to work.

And I realized it as I was having difficulty grasping the pen when I was writing a note to include in my box for Stockings for Soldiers.

While my body has required me to make adjustments that a 46 year old should not have to make, I still can sew on my machine.

80 stockings are now finished and ready to go out the door tomorrow.

I have to think that despite my grumblings about my body, those troops who will be receiving these stockings have bigger issues to deal with than I do.

Day 221 of 365

I've never been one to ask for help. I imagine most people are that way. Too afraid, too embarrassed, too proud. Too concerned about trying to be independent.

I've tended to be independent. I left home at 16 and was in college by 17. And being married to someone with a disability who doesn't drive forced me to assume an even greater level of independence. I've been the one driving us everywhere despite ice, fog, and blizzards, and the only one who pumps gas. I've been the one who uses the drill and the saw every time they are needed. I've been the sole lawnmower fixer and weed eater repairer. I've been the house painter, the bill payer, the checkbook balancer, and the tax preparer. The tech support person.   Every "assembly required" thing in this house was put together by me, along with anything requiring tying whether it be a rope, a shoestring, or a dress tie. And 99.99% of the pictures taken over the last 28 years were taken by me.

Over the years, I've gotten my husband to do more things here and there without help. He now uses a can opener by himself. He's gotten a nice collection of clip on and zip up dress ties. Just last week he learned how to text, and this week I showed him how to pay bills.

Recovering from three surgeries in less than a year required me to finally start asking for help. Both my daughter and husband had to pitch in more than they'd ever had before. It was a welcome (and necessary) change for me. But since then, I've again been holding back on asking for help.

25 more Christmas stockings for Stockings for Soldiers. Independently. All by myself. I probably should have asked for help in getting to 80. I might just do that pretty soon.

Day 220 of 365

I'm not a big comfort food person. I didn't grow up on casseroles and I'm not into mac and cheese. I don't even remember too many of my meals growing up.

As I think back on my childhood, it had two parts. Pre-divorce and post-divorce. Up to 3rd grade and 4th grade and on.

My parents divorced when I was a kid. A few months before my eighth birthday, we packed up the house in San Jose and moved about 80 miles away to live with my grandparents. We left the old house behind and I left my old life behind. I have few memories of the pre-divorce years, and the memories I do have revolve around the pictures I have from back then. Mostly birthday parties. The only food memories are birthday cakes, grilled cheese sandwiches, and fried eggs. (I'm sure my mom cooked, I just don't remember it.)

I remember some foods from when we moved in with, then moved next door to, my grandparents. Those fried pies from earlier this week. Tacos. Okra. Homemade pizza with Little Smokies on them. Sourdough bread. And fried chicken and mashed potatoes.

I still use the same homemade pizza dough recipe and sometimes still use Little Smokies. Tacos occur frequently in our dinner menu. I still like good sourdough bread. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes? Probably the meal I remember that's the closest thing to comfort food. We make chicken here at home, but bake it instead of fry it. I still love mashed potatoes.

But I have another meal that feels like comfort food. I imagine it was in my childhood somewhere, yet I don't remember who made it (mom, grandma, or great-grandma?).

Chicken and dumplings. Nothing better on a cool fall day.

Day 219 of 365

My husband has his funeral all planned out. He knows who he wants officiating, where he wants it held. I would suspect it'll be a full place on that day.

He's a popular teacher, well known in the community, and is someone who never shies away from visiting with students who have long since graduated. He might not see someone for 20 years but still recognizes them right off the bat and is able to strike up a conversation. I made fun of him for years because no matter where we went - including out of state - he would see someone he knows. Now it's no longer funny. It's expected. And he never forgets a face.

Being I've never been a social person, that's a skill I don't possess. Even people I should recognize, I don't. I imagine it comes from being engrossed in work and not people. Getting good grades and being smart has been my claim to fame. But I always compare myself to other people. When I do that, someone is always smarter, nicer, friendlier, more patient, better dressed. The one that bugs me the most is when I say to myself, "She/he is a better person than I am."

I say it a lot. I look at the qualities in other people and I see so much that I lack. It's not so much about being a perfect person, but wanting to be a better version of myself.

Right now the one thing I can turn to as proof of becoming a better version of myself is my sewing for others. I'm not sure why, but kids and soldiers (and kids of soldiers) have been the focus of my sewing.

Today, Stockings for Soldiers. 30 more stockings done.

Day 218 of 365

The abrupt change in our weather has signaled an abrupt change in my thinking.

Weather wise, it was 90 earlier this week and here today it appears the temperature might not get out of the 40s. Just a few minutes ago the weatherman said with the wind we have we have windchills in the 20s right now. Quite a shock on the system.

Another shock on the system happened yesterday. Something at work made me realize I've been putting myself last.

One of the biggest draws to taking this job was that it was part time and I had some flexibility in my schedule. That it would leave me time to recuperate in between work days, give me some down time to regroup. For some reason when I started back working, I thought I'd focus on work the days I was there, and my days off would be clear-headed and not about work. It hasn't quite worked out that way, and part of that is my own fault. I've fallen into the work is more important than anything routine. But yesterday's incident gave me the wake up call I needed.

A change of attitude on my part was in store. And that change of attitude came in handy today.

Our big, huge shade tree that keeps our roses shaded in the mornings and our back patio cool in the evenings has slowly been dying off. Every summer while sitting on the patio we talk about how thankful we are for such a tree. How heartbroken we would be if anything ever happened to the tree. We love that tree.

So a few weeks back we had a tree company take a look at the problem and they decided it might be some type of stress. Fast forward to today when we had that same tree company come out and prune the dead stuff out. When trimming up in the trees, bad news was delivered. It appears a fungus has overtaken our tree. There is no cure. And within 4-5 years our tree will be dead. I remember a few years back when we had to remove our big, beautiful front yard shade tree. I loved that tree so much I almost cried the day it was cut down.

If it wasn't for my new attitude change today, I would probably upset at the thought of losing this backyard tree. I am upset, but it's something I can't influence so it's not worth my worrying about.

That's what I realized at work yesterday. I can't change anyone else, I can't change the situation, or the amount of work, or who should do what. My limited amount of energy doesn't need to be spent on any of those things.

My energy needs to be spent on being happy. It's in my hands. It's not dependent on anyone else. It's not dependent on good luck or bad luck. Not on money or things. Not on cold weather or warm weather. Not on a job or on a tree.

My happiness belongs to me.

But being happy when my husband wants me to eat some freshly picked-from-the-garden kale? I'm trying to be happy on that one, but I'm not sure I can get there.