No Regrets

I'm having a rough day. I can barely move. I want to sleep all day. I overdid it yesterday, and today I'm paying the price.

The song that's running through my head today, keeping me sane, and reminding me that guilt is a useless emotion is Robbie William's No Regrets.

No regrets they don't work
No regrets they only hurt
Sing me a love song
Drop me a line
Suppose it's just a point of view
But they tell me I'm doing fine

It's funny, because when I saw my doctor last week, she told me to remember that setbacks are a normal part of this illness, and not to get down about them. Today has been a huge setback.

Do I regret it? No. What I did yesterday was totally worth it. I saw a good friend who's going through a rough time. Met some interesting people through her. Was enjoying myself so much, that I lost track of time, and only realized how long I'd been out when it was already too long. Is that a bad thing? I don't think so. I think it's a good sign, actually. I think by not focusing on my condition, and behaving like a healthy person would under the circumstance, I forgot for a little while just how sick I really am. There was a moment in time that I could be healthy. It felt great.

I pushed too far, and now my body's recouping. Thankfully, once again, my village is here to support me, and they do so without judgment. Why should I judge myself if they don't? Why should I impose feelings of guilt, when all they do is override the pleasure of the moments that have already passed?

No thanks. I'll pass. I'll enjoy the sunshine from the comfort of my couch, let the fresh (and finally warm-ish) air in through the screen door, and I will recall the way I engaged with life that brought me to this moment with pleasure. Isn't that, after all, a way of accepting who I'm becoming? 

I feel like I'm exploring my new limits, and the only way to really know what they are is to push past them every once in a while and observe the effects, good and not-so-good. The good: socialization, engagement, pushing away isolation and depression, understanding the effects and their causes, feeling like my old self for a moment and learning a bit more about how to integrate that feeling into my new life. The not-so-good: feeling like my veins are pumping lead, yearning for the patience to get through yet another setback, wondering how long this will take, frustration at the price to pay, warding off the feeling that I did this to myself.


So I won't take a walk today. And my nourishment will not be as healthy as it could be (but thanks to my grandmother, there was chicken soup for breakfast). And the dishes will wait (again). But I won't regret being there for a friend, or having a good time doing it.