Follow one crying eye on

Choices and small decisions

Had a bad day yesterday. Everything I touched or tried to do seemed to go wrong. We all have days like that, I guess, but I always fear the worst: that this is the beginning of my dementia-fuelled end. 

As I rushed to the post-box just before afternoon collection time, I had a few moments to collect my thoughts. I realised that, despite earlier feeling that I could not trust myself to go outside without falling over (yes, there had been an episode of slipping on the front path whilst chasing a delivery driver – enough of that for now), I had made the small and almost insignificant decision that I could get out to post my cards. 

As I deposited my cards in the postbox (successfully before last collection time – small positive victory!), I also realised I was so miserable I did not want to go carol-singing in the evening with one of my singing groups. I knew it would be difficult – that my glasses would steam up whilst trying to sing through a mask; that we would not have any coherent plan; and that others would get too close together for my liking – but I also knew that singing ‘live’ in a group would potentially be uplifting.

Of course, I did go. I had said I would go, and I rarely go back on my word. Two out of the three difficulties did indeed arise – and the steamed-up glasses was an absolute pain – but our reasonably-distanced singing did indeed eventually cheer me up. 

I wonder at what point I will stop making these small decisions to override my immediate feelings and stop pushing myself outside my restricted comfort zone. There are many small choices like this to make in any normal day, most of which we don’t notice at all. It is only when I stand outside of myself I can see that sometimes I need to make a conscious decision and make something happen. So far, I have actually been good at this, but I can see the slippery slope beckoning. I could easily become a recluse*.

Often I make the decisions because I have somehow committed to someone or have an obligation in some way.  Thus I dragged myself to work for years with migraine on the majority of mornings rather than giving up – I suspect because I simply did not see giving up as an option. I worked around it, tried not to schedule early meetings, did the easiest admin whilst my medication did its work, avoided making my condition an issue for colleagues to know about (although inevitably some were aware in my closest teams but perhaps not quite the extent). 

It is harder to see the choices and make the right decisions now that I mostly have to set my own rules, but I think that’s how I do it on the bad days. I can’t simply stay in the house – it isn’t an option. Hmm – I suppose it is this ability to make the rules, or at least to make suitable rules, and to remember them, that will decline.

In any case, I’m immeasurably cheered up today, due to the announced impending arrival of the rest of a large beer order which we thought had been lost/stolen when only 2 bottles out of 38 arrived yesterday with no explanation apart from an email which said the delivery was complete (one of the many problems contributing to the mood yesterday). So, yay!

*Actually, with my recent feline bereavement, I don’t currently have enough cats for the stereotypical mad-old-bat-in-a-cluttered-house. And that’s not a hint for a furry Christmas present.

Follow one crying eye on