For the October Monthly Muse week 2
Made with:
Morning Coffee by Etc by Danyale
August and September Stuff by Allison Pennington
Hero of the Night by DeCrow Designs and Tangie Baxter
Beautiful Dreamer by ForeverJoy Designs
Duly Noted Papers by Amy Wolff
Dinner Date Elements and
This ‘N Thats by Pink reptile Designs
Beetris,
Remy and Mr. Fox, and
Mac by Rebecca McMeen
Fonts are Dark Roast and Peas & Carrots by Brittney Murphy Design
Lyrics from Tunnel of Love by Bruce Springsteen
Normally I don't put anything here except credits but @MrsPeel asked that we at least give some explanation for the piece (here as well as the forum post), so:
~First off, for those who aren't aware, spoons has become a word/imagery associated with chronic illness. I won't go into it here but it's easy enough to google: The Spoon Theory by Christine Miserandino.
So the week's prompt is to journal about something we don't like about ourselves but have learned to at least accept, if not love. I don't love being a spoonie - in fact it's safe to say I never will - but sooner or later you figure out you don't have much choice to accept it. I have a laundry list of disorders but the main ones are Graves' Disease and fibromyalgia, and that's never going to change. The "cure" for Graves' is to have your thyroid removed, which only gives you a different set of issues to deal with. As for fibro, there's still no real clue what causes it, let alone how it might be cured. Even now there are still doctors who don't believe it's an actual illness.
Anyway - you get two choices with your new reality of life: refuse to accept you're now chronically ill/disabled and fight against it (which only makes it worse, and do I speak from experience? You better hecking bet), or, well, learn to live with what you can't rise above.
I wish it was like learning to love my fat thighs or beat up, dried out hands but it's not. There's no magical moment when I look in the mirror and am glad for these things, when I can find the good that comes with. My old hands can still make beautiful things, my fat thighs make a big, welcoming lap (or can smother a man if need be
), but an immune system that thinks other parts of my body are the enemy is never going to be a bonus. There is no up side.
But there is peace in acceptance. Sometimes that's enough to be grateful for.
