There I am, finally dressed and breakfasted and medicated and packed for work. A storm was coming in, so it was actually, finally cold enough to wear a jacket. I pulled my leather bomber jacket and wool fedora from the coat closet, then set my purse and lunch bag down to pull on the jacket.
Meanwhile, hubby comes by from the kitchen to give me a good-bye kiss and observes, “You look like you’re in pain, or tired, or both.”
I nod; it’s both. I’ve been slow getting up and ready in the mornings, hence slow to eat and then take my meds, and the dosage on the arthritis medication was halved to see if that helps the hypertension. My HRT was also dropped for the same reason, so I’ve not had a good night’s sleep the past month due to frequent hot flashes. Kinda sucks, but life goes on.
Then I’m slowly flapping my left arm, trying to get it into my left jacket sleeve, which is absurd because normally I can reach my arm around backwards so much that I can even scratch my own back. But I’m stiff in the morning, and hubby reaches over to help me get my jacket on. I realise with great annoyance that this is a “tell”, a very visible sign of impediment. In a couple of hours I’ll be working normally, but not yet. All life is change, and we all have things to cope with, but some signs are bigger landmarks in the psyche than are others. This one I find annoying, maybe because it’s so stereotypical.
Mornings are not a great time for me; I’m really a late-night person. It’s not that I’m not functional in the morning — I can do all kinds of tasks. It’s just that the planning and talking parts of my brain are slower to get up to running speed. I’m not good at remembering to do things that I don’t normally do in the morning, and sometimes forget even the things that I do usually do (like um, taking my ADHD medication). I’m not chatty, and have zero interest in discussing articles in the newspaper.
Planning and choosing things is too much in the morning. So I’ve learned to pick out my clothes the night before, all the way down to the underwear and socks. Even if I don’t actually pack my lunch the night before, I still figure out what I’m going to take, and will sometimes leave a nonperishable ingredient on the counter to jog my memory.
So morning’s aren’t great. But now I’m struggling to master the dainty zipper-pull on a skirt, or tie my boot laces, or pull on my jacket. Surprisingly, buttons are still okay. But even so, I’m just dressing more slowly. And after a week of getting to my first school just barely on time or a couple minutes late, I realise that this has turned into a trend, and that I must re-configure my morning schedule.
I need to allow myself a quarter hour more to get ready. That’s not a lot, really. But it makes the difference between running perpetually almost-late and getting there in plenty of time. So I need to haul myself out of bed just a wee bit earlier. Nevermind that I’m more tired since my sleep is lousy. Okay, I should in turn go to bed an hour earlier to see if I can’t make up for that a bit. Better creaky than cranky.
Things change, so I must adapt. Again. Notice a trend, identify a problem, find a way to work around it. Mustn’t grouse, and all that.