Today is Sunday, the last day of the Taos Wool Festival weekend. This is the biggest weekend of the year for those of us addicted to wool yarn and fleece. Twilly, (my bestfriend & sister), and I talked about it all year long and planned how much money we would blow on everything we wanted. The world's finest yarn being at the top of that list.
I knew things weren't going my way last night when I lay down in bed. As I began to decompress I felt an all too familiar throb begin in my shoulders and my right hip. I spent the night tossing and turning in a desperate attempt to alieviate the burning sensations and sharp pains that keeping shooting thru my joints. During nights like this, it's easy for me to imagine Lupus as the Wolf.
After explaining to D, (my husband, my life partner, my soulmate) how I really feel this morning, I called Twilly and told her that it had rained too much and we couldn't go because we don't have a reliable truck to get down our road. So she offered to come and get me. I told her I'd call her back. I hung up and D was shaking his head at me. He said, "that's what you get for not having the balls to tell her the truth." OMG, I hate it when he calls me on my crap!! But that's what bestfriends do, they call you on your crap and encourage you to deal with it. So I had to call Twilly back and tell her over a huge lump in my throat, just how shitty I feel and it's not the rain or the road. It's me. I cried. I couldn't bring myself to use the term "flare". But that's what I should have said, "I'm having a Lupus Flare."
God knows, my ears don't even want to hear myself rattle off a list of everything in me that feels wrong.
Why is it so flippin' hard? Somehow, it means it's my fault that our plans are ruined. We were suppose to shop and visit with our friends and have a great double date that ended up with dinner at a favorite restaurant where we'd pass the evening with D and Thebes talking guns and hunting. Twilly and I would be fondlingly each other's purchases from festival vendors while ooohing and aaaahing over what we had seen and touched and smelled.
It's my fault for not being able to woo-woo it away last night when it started. I was just too tired. It's my fault for not listening to the Doc. on Friday and resting. I was at the top of my game on Friday!!! I felt great and I was so full of energy and excitement! I cleaned the whole house, sweeping and shaking all the rugs. I put away all the laundry, did all the dishes, and cleaned and organized the studio. I even worked on my lastest wall piece inbetween and during my cigerette breaks. I baked two kinds of cookies!! I was preparing everything to be neglected while I was in town having fun all weekend! But I didn't nap like the Doc. said I needed to do everyday if I want to avoid a big crash of Fatigue. Are you kidding me? I was flying!
Saturday I got up at 5am to meet Merce, (my neighbor and kindred spirit) at the corner by 6am to leave for the Wool Fest. I was feeling great watching the sunrise over the mountains. It was a perfect, crisp fall morning. Merce and I talked about spiritual healing while driving and smoking and watching the sky change colors. Saturday stayed great all day long, we had a blast!
People began flooding into the park at 9am, and the crisp air was filled with the smells of roasting almonds and BBQ lamb. And from somewhere further away, the smell of the goats and Alpacas and sheep on damp morning grass. Twilly showed up after noon and all the women from our knitting group were there, and the founders of our second on-line home "Ralvery" were there.
Merce's booth starting selling like crazy and she won 4 blue-ribbons and 1 red-ribbon...plus a big purple ribbon for Grand Champion of yarn spinning. I totally let myself be overloaded by colors and textures and beautiful people wearing beautiful things. I came home with a bag full of small chunks of every color wool roving possible. Twilly and I are planning a future day of care free and fanatical artistic expression in felt paining!
Back to today. I had to call Chezzie and tell her the truth too. Chezzie is my 16 year old daughter and another very bestfriend of mine. I hate telling her the details too. She loves me and gets bummed out on my behalf. BUT she's the one who always understands. She knows about almost all of it because of her own life. She knows anxiety, and joint pain, and the agony of the unfair universe that keeps us from joining in when all of our friends are out together doing something really fun. Only a teenager can appropiately appreciate that situation!!! I can always count on her to say "oh Mom, I'm sorry, that sucks!"
Despite feeling achey and exhausted, I'm having a beautiful Sunday anyway. I'm hanging out with D, listening to music and chatting with my daughters on Yahoo Messenger. Twilly, knowingly or not, is the perfect friend. While she was at the festival today without me, she called me to quick look up info. about a pattern for her. She helped me to feel both useful and included in the fun. And then she called me again as she was leaving to fill me in on the details of her shopping and taunt me about a "get well" gift that she picked up for me. Thanks to my support group, the people who love me, I'm having a great day despite having a flare.
1 year ago