Outed

I have been very fortunate as a person dealing with chronic illness, and especially ME. I know that there are gazillions of people out there who don't believe ME is real, who think it's all in our heads etc. etc. etc. But luckily, I have had to deal with very few of those. Of course, those were all health care professionals, so I'm not sure what that says... but still.

The vast majority of people who know me, and know that I have ME, are very supportive and understanding. That's because not many people outside my immediate circles know. They know I'm sick but not with what. And that has just changed.

Since I got the diagnosis a year and half ago (holy cow time flies), I've not really cared who knew and who didn't, as I prefer living my life as openly as possible. But, because of privacy and political issues at the school where I was a teacher, and am now just a Mom, I kept it quiet, and politely explained to all who asked that I was not at liberty to discuss my actual diagnosis. But now things have changed.

Satisfaction and the Job Partially Done

Satisfaction comes from a job well done. In my case, I am learning to be satisfied with a job half done. Or even a quarter done. But when I finally get to the end, oh, how the satisfaction fills me.

I am writing this today as a reminder to myself, to not get discouraged when I can't do things the way I am used to and like doing them, when I can't finish them, or when, like yesterday, my biggest accomplishment was plopping a piece of chicken and some frozen spinach in the microwave.

Once again yesterday I found myself on the down slope of the ups and downs. Today feels like it could possibly be a little bit better, but it's too soon to tell. The weather shifting, and the rain storms all mean air pressure changes, which for me, mean woozy, cognitively-challenged, less energetic days. All the more reason to allow myself to feel good about doing just a little bit.

I had a wonderful talk with my therapist about tidiness and organization. My house is not like I would like it to be. It is not like it was before I fell ill, and it is miles away from what any of my classrooms ever were. My classrooms were anally organized, because Montessori environments have to be in order to function. My house less so, but still, everything was pretty much "just so." My books are organized by genre, then by size. My knicknacks are placed in ways I find aesthetically pleasing, as is everything in my kitchen (yes, I did originally organize my kitchen in a way I would find it pretty - it's a huge motivator for me). Even when I was perfectly well, there were a few things lying around not in their places - my house was casually lived-in, and perhaps more cluttered than some would like. But it was perfect for me.

Honouring our Teacher and Friend

A couple of weeks ago, my family lost somebody very special, as did everyone I knew in my childhood. I had not been able to bring myself to write about it, because I honestly had not been ready.

My parents met her somewhere around high school and university. She was one of the first Montessori teachers in Mexico, and she was my sister's first teacher. Olga created more than a school - she created a community, within which parents formed such strong bonds that time and space have not eroded.

Myself, I was in her school for only one year. But Olga's friendship with my parents influenced my life in ways I cannot describe, and cannot count. Her passion for Montessori was contagious, her will indomitable and her voice was strong. My parents had learned about Montessori through my uncle's first wife, and had received the seminal "The Absorbent Mind" when my mother was first pregnant with my sister. When it came time to look for schools, they explored their options, and realized that their friend Olga offered the one that best suited them, what they valued, and what they wanted for us daughters. And Olga became my sister's first, and probably most influential, teacher.