Having a progressive illness requires continuous adaptation. When a method of accomplishing a task is no longer effective, modification is obviously mandatory.
As a spider invests a great deal of its time and energy to building its home, so we create new ways of achieving what must be done, weaving a sort of web of existence. Both simple and complex, each thread must connect to the next. Being innovative can be exhausting, but the design of accomplishment can seem beautiful when the light hits it right.
Then WHAM! Like a fly landing on a carefully spun web, my world is shaken by the invasion of a new symptom or the spread of an already existent one. One break in the pattern can necessitate a whole new routine, often leaving more of my previous independence as a tangled mess requiring repair. The culprit’s arrival usually represents saying goodbye to another inch of this or that body part.
First, I must deal with the intruder by wrapping my emotions around yet another change and how it has damaged my designed routine. When the unwelcome visitor has been accepted and absorbed into my system of thinking, then the web must be rebuilt with adjustments creating new connections for the threads so tasks can again be accomplished. The method redesigned, I can relax for awhile.
While I’m here on my web, I won’t waste my time cursing the last storm or fearing where the next fly will land. I’m holding on tight, but I will do what I can with what I’ve got in the time I’m allotted. Perhaps I’ll try to write a good word in my web.
Yep, I’ll try to be like Charlotte.