"Standing" only goes for so long before it's time to stop. My first choice, once "standing" has reached its conclusion, is to sit down.
And the surprise is... "sitting" is now becoming uncomfortable. The recliner that has always been my refuge, where I sit to work on things such as this, is no longer as pleasant to sit in as it has previously been.
A while ago, some occasion brought me to sit on the floor to work at something. I sat in a half-lotus position, and surprised myself at how amazingly comfortable that was. I've always liked that position, even from the first day I learned it in my teen years, but it was never so wonderful as it was that day, sitting without any padding on a wooden floor.
Of course, when it came time to get up—that was awful. I nearly couldn't, and I nearly couldn't walk; it took longer than I liked for what passes nowadays for "control" to return to my legs. But the sitting... the sitting was wonderful.
I wonder if the recliner can be made more comfortable with the addition of a pillow, or some other padding ('course, if I hadn't lost so much body fat, sadly including what used to be on my buttocks, I wouldn't need added chair padding). I mean, that half-lotus was great! But it's not going to be a good alternative to chairs, if the cost of that comfort is going to be inability to stand up afterwards, and needing to slither away until the legs start working again.
I can often find the hidden gift in just about anything, but this one eludes me, at the moment. If it weren't so bloody cold outside, I could take it as a "hint" simply to go outside, and do whatever needed to be done out there rather than inside. Given how uncomfortable I find chilliness, and how that cold makes it even harder to walk, I don't think that's the direction I'm supposed to take.
Today, at least. But, as I'm typing this, I'm wondering if the message is simply "Listen better." Because if I were listening better, I'd get the message, the gift that at the moment is eluding me.
Oh, the gift is there—I know it is. It's on me to put myself in the right space to accept it.
Just like M.S., life is. Now that's an interesting turnaround, isn't it?