An Unmade Bed
I’ve been feeling quite a bit like an unmade bed lately. Not the artfully, tastefully unmade beds with beautifully creased linen sheets that have popped up on my feeds. More like the true-to-life kind you see on Ikea catalogs. I’m not going to include the kind you see when you open the door to your son’s room. Make that my son’s room. The last thing I want is to offend anyone else’s son.
Unmade beds can be just as inviting as made beds for sure but I’m one of those people whose heart aches at the thought of leaving a bed unmade. Must be the Virgo in me. It’s one of those things that when left undone, leaves me with a feeling that I’d forgotten something. Maybe a made bed, to me, is something of a take-off point. When it’s done, I can get on with the rest of the day.
So feeling like an unmade bed is exactly that. I have so many ideas in my head about what I will do when the next day rolls in (think starting a new canvas, sewing an outfit for my Smart Doll, Starlight, continuing the paper sculpture, scanning receipts for tax purposes, even baking “the best gluten free cookies ever”). I have a habit of seeing myself do the things I plan to do, like a mental rehearsal, if you will. In the morning, whatever it is I’d decided will take priority goes in the Bullet Journal.
Lately, my Bullet Journal’s been blank. I’ve become an unmade bed.
The things I’ve managed to do have become a bit random. I did get to use the hubby’s clippers to cut off most of my hair. That took me a bit of time and I found I was done for the rest of the day. Yesterday, I crocheted a chemo cap for Starlight to match the one I made for myself. Today feels like a good day though. It’s even beautifully sunny outside.
Yesterday, I came across Lisa Congdon’s post on my Instagram feed. She illustrated a quote by David Whyte. I have an affinity for his poetry. The quote was from his poem Winter Apple:
“Let the apple ripen on the branch beyond your need to take it down.”
Ah, I thought, a reminder to let things be, to let the events take their course and unfold as they should. This is not one of those times when a mere brushing of a stray lock will complete the look. There’s no control over what the infusions do as they wreak havoc on the unwelcome cells that have invaded the body. There will be collateral damage that you can only hope will be temporary.
But this is not to say that there are no options other than feeling defeated by both my body and the treatments meant to heal it. When news of the cancer was confirmed, my husband declared that our family would fight it as a team. When my sisters, my cousins, and friends found out, they rallied and prayed and made sure I knew they had my back.
Even while I struggle with new, unfamiliar messages from my body, there’s all that happening in the background. They are buoys that I can reach out to whenever I need a bit of a lift. But it does happen that there are days when moving forward can be challenging—the unmade bed days.
In case you’re wondering, I still make the bed. I can feel like one but I don’t have to live with one. I’m counting it as a triumph. Instead of stopping, I keep going. Even if it’s just to make the bed.
Unmade beds can be just as inviting as made beds for sure but I’m one of those people whose heart aches at the thought of leaving a bed unmade. Must be the Virgo in me. It’s one of those things that when left undone, leaves me with a feeling that I’d forgotten something. Maybe a made bed, to me, is something of a take-off point. When it’s done, I can get on with the rest of the day.
So feeling like an unmade bed is exactly that. I have so many ideas in my head about what I will do when the next day rolls in (think starting a new canvas, sewing an outfit for my Smart Doll, Starlight, continuing the paper sculpture, scanning receipts for tax purposes, even baking “the best gluten free cookies ever”). I have a habit of seeing myself do the things I plan to do, like a mental rehearsal, if you will. In the morning, whatever it is I’d decided will take priority goes in the Bullet Journal.
Lately, my Bullet Journal’s been blank. I’ve become an unmade bed.
The things I’ve managed to do have become a bit random. I did get to use the hubby’s clippers to cut off most of my hair. That took me a bit of time and I found I was done for the rest of the day. Yesterday, I crocheted a chemo cap for Starlight to match the one I made for myself. Today feels like a good day though. It’s even beautifully sunny outside.
Yesterday, I came across Lisa Congdon’s post on my Instagram feed. She illustrated a quote by David Whyte. I have an affinity for his poetry. The quote was from his poem Winter Apple:
“Let the apple ripen on the branch beyond your need to take it down.”
Ah, I thought, a reminder to let things be, to let the events take their course and unfold as they should. This is not one of those times when a mere brushing of a stray lock will complete the look. There’s no control over what the infusions do as they wreak havoc on the unwelcome cells that have invaded the body. There will be collateral damage that you can only hope will be temporary.
But this is not to say that there are no options other than feeling defeated by both my body and the treatments meant to heal it. When news of the cancer was confirmed, my husband declared that our family would fight it as a team. When my sisters, my cousins, and friends found out, they rallied and prayed and made sure I knew they had my back.
Even while I struggle with new, unfamiliar messages from my body, there’s all that happening in the background. They are buoys that I can reach out to whenever I need a bit of a lift. But it does happen that there are days when moving forward can be challenging—the unmade bed days.
In case you’re wondering, I still make the bed. I can feel like one but I don’t have to live with one. I’m counting it as a triumph. Instead of stopping, I keep going. Even if it’s just to make the bed.
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