Tonight I did dishes and made dinner and did a load of laundry and baked a quiche, all things that I used to do without even thinking, but which over the last month or two have somehow become completely unachievable. And took a call from a friend, and provided a caring ear for the airing of a few troubles.
So I got "nothing" done.
I used to live in a very happy world of regular--often daily--achievement. Over-achievement, some would call it. But for me, it was normal.
Now, normal is different. It's not as sizable... but it's just as normal.
Why is "normal" so hard for me to accept? Being that "normal" is really, pretty much all we have. It is certainly what is, for lack of a better word... normal. And yet, for me, "normal" had always been a failing, somehow. But now, I'm grateful when I have it.
And yet, "normal" is all I've ever had.
Another gift of MS...