Spoiled...

My dear friend Mary spoiled me for Christmas and, frankly, she warmed the cockles of my heart.  I am not much spoiled ever, and I am really, really struggling with having to count and re-count pennies every darn day.  There are so very many things that I want and even things that I need that are out of my reach or require careful planning and genuine sacrifice.

The part of me that doesn't believe I am worthy is wanting to ask her if I can send her a check.  The part of me that has, for example, deeply missed the glass frog straw ever since it broke, is jumping up and down for joy in the excitement and the gift of smiles and frog joy.  Frog joy and three other gifts. Four is my favorite number....

Plus, I have been struggling for months now over all the stuff that has been piled upon my plate, so being spoiled has been a bit of a balm to my weariness.

I am physically weary.
And mentally weary.
And emotionally weary.
And spiritually weary (of being terrified).

I can find no rest.

Even though I have been resting quite a bit since the lung wash, I am still so exhausted that I cannot fathom sitting at GoodYear for most of the day on Thursday.  I was out for an appointment today and didn't bother to dress for public.  Instead, I went out in men's pajama pants and a hoodie for the first time in months and months of trying to at least dress the part I was playing.  Tomorrow, I can sleep more, but I doubt it will make a dent upon my weariness.

Sjogren's fatigue is far worse than dysautonomia fatigue.  I would never have guessed that could be possible.  Put the two together and I doubt I will ever be rested again.  SIGH.

Emily replaced the heating pad that just died as a Christmas gift, for which I am exceedingly grateful.  She is also sending me stamps since I am out.  That, too, is a much welcome gift.  She knows how much it means to me to send out my bi-monthly note cards.  Although, with the cost of stamps increasing five cents in January, I believe my bi-monthly note cards might need to be transitioned to quarterly ones.

Celia, bless her heart, gifted me a subscription to recipes for the year.  I have not been cooking much for months and months.  I have not tried new recipes in eons.  And I fell away from making butters.  I know she didn't mean it this way, but I thought that it was much welcome chastisement to take care of myself in some fashion and cooking new things is a way of doing that. I do miss exploring new recipes.

I am just so very weary.

Becky's gifts are on their way.  My sister already gave me a generous gift to help with medical expenses.  And she send me my beloved calendar, though it lies unopened beneath the Christmas tree.  Becky's mother's gift is also sitting beneath my tree.

For decades, my mother used to give us all calendars for Christmas.  She stopped doing so and it broke my heart a bit.  But my sister stepped in to fill the void.  She does a wonderful job of selecting them.  And it warms the cockles of my heart that she makes the effort each year so that I can still have my calendar Christmas present.

The funny thing is that, toward the end, my mother would give my sister a Renior calendar and she would give me a Monet one.  My sister and I would promptly swap, for I love Renior and she adores Monet.

My sister knows I love botanicals, so she's been choosing those for me.  It is most exciting to turn the page to a new month to see what kind of botanical loveliness that I will get to savor all month.  She's also been giving me a two-pack calendar so that I can use the small one to keep track of medical stuff.  What kindness!

My step-mother, mother, and step-father will send money and my brother a gift certificate to Amazon, where I buy the supplements my doctors have me taking.  The money will go toward bills.  I very much dislike being so practical with those Christmas gifts.  But being spoiled this year is taking a bit of the sting out of that.