I Hate Limitations

My mother suffers from rheumatoid arthritis.  She was diagnosed the year that I was born and throughout my childhood she had flare ups and surgeries and good days and bad days.  But it always seemed to me that it didn’t matter to my mom.  She found a way to do things.  She kept up with her gardens one way or another.  She altered how she did things to make them work.

So, whenever I’m faced with some kind of task that I don’t really know how to do, or some slightly dangerous physical feat, I just puzzle it out and do it because, well, that’s what you do.

Which brings us to one of the most frustrating parts of being pregnant.  I just do things.  Things need to be done.  But now, suddenly, I get in trouble for doing them.  Shoveling my car out when we got a snow storm a couple of weeks ago?  I got yelled at, but to me I needed to go to work and there was snow and I took it easy.  At Christmas yesterday, my mother-in-law would hardly let me do anything.  She moved my gifts for me and carried my stuff for me.  And it was really sweet but it felt unnecessary to me.  Or last week when I put my boxes of books back in the closet and only realized afterwards that they are definitely too heavy for me to carry.

And the reason I bring this up this morning is that I am suffering major anxiety about the trash.  Last week, Hubby forgot to put the trash out to the curb.  It happens once in a while and it’s not big deal but Christmas is a time of boxes and papers and leftovers.  We only had half a can left to fill.  I woke up this morning at around 8 and went to sit on the couch with my book.  Then I remembered it’s Monday and trash day and that the trash could run later or earlier than usual because they didn’t run yesterday.  In the summer, when the windows are open, I can hear the truck coming with enough time to run out.  But today the windows are closed and someone nearby is revving their engine and working on their car and the driveway is too icy to run anywhere.

I sat on the couch and twitched.  I was perfectly incapable of relaxing.  “I’ll take it out if he’s not up by 8:30,” I told myself.  I wanted him to sleep in and not have to get up just because of the trash and my nerves.  But would I hear the truck coming with enough time?  What if I missed it? I fretted and worried and twitched until I gave up.

I took the trash out.

Again, it’s not a big deal.  I just pulled the cans out to the road.  I carried some empty boxes out.  I was careful.  I only got winded when I was going up the steps inside.  To me, I just did what I needed to do in an effort to calm down and relax.  But now I’m mostly sitting here hoping that the garbage truck comes before Hubby gets up so that I am less likely to get in trouble.

I don’t like it, all of this relying on other people to do things.  I’ve always had a hard time asking for help and I’ve always had a hard time letting people do things for me.  I’m going to have to surrender my pride.

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