Making efforts

As the weather starts to improve and the first tentative shoots appear in my garden, so, too, are the first moments of energy I've experienced this year starting to arrive. At last, some small sense of momentum.

As always, after a period of insubstantial ability, my mind has turned towards the negative, albeit unconsciously. Insidious thoughts of incapability, and mistrust in my body have crept in, almost unnoticed.

When my world becomes small because of physical limitations, I have noticed that my mind does likewise - a coping strategy, I understand - lower ones expectations so that disappointment and dissatisfaction are kept in abeyance, and acceptance and tranquility see one through.

But then the thoughts, the lowered standards, remain, undercutting me at times that could be so much more productive.

And so this week, I have been making efforts.

Tried to start on the house cleaning that has been shelved while under the cosh of illness, and got as far as washing one window before retiring, defeated and exhausted. So called in a cleaner. Simples.

Lovely woman, she arrived confident, reassuring and remarkably like the energiser bunny. Four hours later she left, slightly desperate, deflated, and pathetically grateful when I said we could leave some bits for next week. I think I broke her.

Nonetheless, I turned the thought "I'll never get this house clean" into "I can find a way". As for my lovely cleaner - well I was just an opportunity-rich life experience for her. Ta-dah! See, don't even have to feel guilty.

Next on the agenda is to get painting again. Time to turn "I've lost all my inspiration and everything I do is twee, dead and commercial" thoughts into something that serves me better.

"I am limitless in my potential" might be a nice start.

"I can enjoy the exploration process, which will ultimately be rewarding and fruitful" wouldn't hurt either.

I know patience is a virtue, and I certainly get to be virtuous a lot, but so is perseverance. For me to pull myself out of the dreadful physical inertia that dogs me, perseverance is more my friend.

And after all, once something is a habit, it is no longer an effort, it is just what you do.

I know it won't be plain sailing - nothing with Chronic Fatigue ever is - but being scared of feeling worse doesn't get me very far.

So - off to paint bad paintings so that the good ones can start to emerge.