“Trusting my own magic looks like . . .”
Inside an online community I’ve recently joined this prompt was given today:
Trusting my own magic looks like . . .
AND I thought about the blog posts I’ve got outlines for AND the Lucky 13 emails I need to finish AND an event I need to finish creating the plan and materials for AND…
AND a couple of weeks ago I got my Covid and flu boosters and my system decided to be dramatic about them, requiring a week or so of nothing-but-resting (so boring) AND then this past weekend I took my first (and last) micro-dose of a supplement that some patients with me/cfs find helpful and my system decided to be ultra, super, distressingly dramatic about that such that I’m still deep in recovery mode and needing to use my wheelchair in the house and have had to reschedule a much needed doctor appointment because of it AND…
AND during times like these it gets really fucking hard to trust my own magic AND I hate that part so much AND I understand it happening too.
I mean, that’s why I gave myself nearly 8 weeks lead time to get Lucky 13 completed AND this continual rescheduling and shifting things around because my system decided to be dramatic gets old, real old, real fast – I hope one day an actual treatment for me/cfs and Long Covid is available because I want to be able to reliably create and connect.
AND yesterday I saw a Physics Girl YouTube short titled “I Had No Idea I’d Lose Everything…” and felt it in my gut:
So, I don’t know what my point is here really except to say that even on days when it’s really hard to trust my own magic, those are the days I need to trust in it the most.
I need to trust that my magic is still here, within me, patiently (or impatiently) waiting for those moments when enough spoons exist to access it, to let it flow through me and onto these virtual pages.
Like, my magic, your magic, our magic – I have to believe we never truly lose it.
Like, it’s not possible to lose your magic.
Sometimes (oftentimes?) we lose our connection with it, but it is still there, lovingly AND faithfully AND (im)patiently waiting for us to reconnect to it. At least, I hope that’s true.
Just now I wandered into the kitchen and was able to get a loaf of bread going in the bread machine. It’s not sourdough, I wasn’t able to ‘do it myself’, but it’s bread I can eat later when I’m too fatigued to even make myself a bowl of ramen (last night I ate popcorn and a glass of milk). The loaf is a mix containing about 40% whole wheat flour and 10% flax meal – so also not as nutrient dense as my 80% whole wheat sourdough loaves, but hopefully yummy and edible.
AND that reminds me that making bread is a form of magic AND listening to my body is a form of magic AND setting up our kitchen so I can navigate around in my wheelchair is a form of magic AND being honest about my struggles is also a form of magic so maybe I am still connected to my magic even during crashes like this.
AND a dinner of homemade bread and cheese isn’t that bad a dinner anyway. <3
Sending you so much love,
Kat
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Because disability keeps me from working, this blog is one of the ways I get to share a little something with the world. If you’d like to support that work and help cover the costs of keeping this space going, I’d be so grateful. And either way, I’m glad you’re here. ☕💛