“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”
This post was inspired by Omar Khayam and is about the way my life, and just everything else, it seems, has changed lately.
I have never wondered or worried much about the future; I figured it would probably take care of itself. I thought I had all the time in the world too. Now, I’m sure that I don’t.
I have been playing catch-up for so long now, it has become my life. I am always streets behind where I want to be, workwise. Circumstances have played their part in all of this, either that or I am in the wrong job!
I never found technology easy, and probably shouldn’t be in the same room as a computer, but stubborn is stubborn does, and I have managed to cope with most of it.
This year, and everything that came with it, has changed me. I have been made to realise that I must change my mindset, and a few other things in order to find a way to live with these new realisations.
My first thoughts were that my time on this planet is rapidly shrinking, so why bother! I have no idea how much longer I have left, so I must find a way to catch up or find a better way to do what I love. Or, give up and abandon everything.
This is not really an option. It would be counterproductive and soul-destroying, but carrying on as before is just not working either.
I think these thoughts have recently been triggered by bonsai guilt, of all things. Never mind my lack of attendance for my latest writing project, I have this lack of commitment to my collection of precious mini trees. Every time I look out of my window and see them sitting on their shelves, I feel a surge of guilt so strong I want to crawl away and hide. My family have been trying to care for them, for which I am grateful, but where has all my dedication and devotion gone? Why haven’t I crawled out there to take care of them?
I can hardly move without pain these days, and I have become a different person because of this. I don’t recognise the way I think, feel or act, and I don’t like any of it. My brain has seen better days too, but my determination to do something seems to be alive and kicking, I just need to figure what needs to be done first and then find a way that works.
First of all, I must try to forget that the longer it takes the NHS to come up with a treatment for me that works, the harder it might be to regain full mobility. But I hope I can get across that bridge when (and if) I get to it…
Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes 
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