Time Will Tell, Planners Will Not

I have multiple planners. They sit around, trying to make me feel organized and like a great planner. I try; I really do. I have a planner for all household appointments in my purse. I have a planner for my weekly household chores. I have a planner for my writing. I attach to-do lists to the planners because brain fog often makes me forget everything I’m planning to do. Almost daily, I used to sit down with my planners and try to do just that: plan what I would accomplish. A good percentage of the time, by the end of the day, I was disappointed in what I had accomplished. And that appointment planner in my purse? I cannot even guess how often an appointment or plan gets postponed or just plain canceled. That’s just my life. That’s living with Hashimoto’s and all it brings into my life.

Lately it feels like flexibility has become a mandatory personality trait. Plan a movie date with my husband? “Sorry, not today,” my body says after I run all the necessary errands first. Finish the closet project you started weeks ago? Absolutely not, says my aching back. How about transitioning to the fall décor? Ha, ha, funny when exhaustion has been my recent go-to energy level.

I can’t say this is just a recent problem. Throughout my Hashimoto’s journey, this has been my body's default setting most days. Some activities I can generally get through. I can usually make it through a vacation without changing our plans too much, but I sure do pay for it for weeks on end when I get back home. My family has learned that every plan must be tentative for me, and I would be lying if I said it didn’t still frustrate me that I can’t just make a plan and stick to it. Seeing my child disappointed because Mom just can’t today is the worst feeling.  

“Seeing my child disappointed because Mom just can’t today is the worst feeling.”

 

Before Hashimoto’s, optimism was my default. After Hashimoto’s, my default is: let’s try to be optimistic but know there will be lots of disappointments that derail your day; try to be flexible and hope for the best. Each day is a new adventure, and I’ve learned to deal with that. I spend many days frustrated that I don’t accomplish what I want to, and some days excited that I have enough energy or my body cooperates enough to get through things on my growing list. I try really hard not to let frustration and disappointment win, but some days they do. Those are the days that I have to just walk away and give myself some grace.

Learning to give myself grace hasn’t been simple. It’s been an adventure all on its own. I admit, I am my own worst boss. I have high expectations of myself, and when I don’t meet them, I’m not easy on myself. Historically, I've mentally beaten myself up over what the little voice in my brain calls my laziness. It’s taken me years to understand that I’m allowed to be tired. I’m allowed to hurt too much to finish a task. I’m allowed to be overwhelmed because my body is working against me. I’m allowed to not be okay for a day, or two, or even three. Maybe even for an entire week. It’s enough that I got out of bed some days. I’m allowed to not be okay. There are days I’m exhausted, but I still do what I can, and I have learned to be proud of myself for that.

“I’m allowed to not be okay.”

 

In my life, grace can look different each day, depending on the circumstances. Sometimes giving myself grace means accepting that I’ve had to postpone a movie date with my husband three times in two weeks, and I’m disappointed in the situation and myself. The key is to not let that disappointment control my life. I still optimistically reschedule the movie date and hope for the best. Other days, giving myself grace means accepting that I am too tired to do anything active and that I'll need to make different use of my day by trying to write or just relax and read a book. Some days dinner might not be homemade, the dirty dishes might sit in the sink until tomorrow, the cat hair might stay on the floor, and the laundry might have to stay dirty for another day. I can be disappointed by the day’s outcome, but still realize that I’m not just being lazy, as some would say; I’m listening to the invisible cues in my body that others cannot see and giving my body the grace to tell me what it needs.

Flexibility has become a daily requirement. I have learned that actually planning out my day always leads to disappointment. So, I use those planners I mentioned earlier a little differently than other people might. Instead of sitting down to look at a weekly list of household chores and other “necessary” tasks and assigning them a day, I keep a running list on the notes page of things I need to do. Then I note what I get done on the calendar, cross it off the list, and move on. This way my schedule is flexible, and I don’t end a day feeling like a failure because I didn’t get everything on my list done. Yes, there are still days I wake up and think, “I want to complete this, that, and the other today.” Some days, when that happens, I succeed; on others, that lovely flexibility comes in handy.

Many days, my husband steps in and helps. He tells me to rest while he makes us a simple dinner or grabs takeout. In the evening, when he sees me struggling or listens to me complain because I didn’t put away the clothes or do the dishes, he reminds me not to push my body too far and suggests I take a nice, long, hot bath. My kids have learned that I will always do my best, but sometimes my best is resting on a bench while they visit the capybaras at the zoo, or floating down a lazy river at the water park while they tackle all the slides. They generally do a great job adjusting plans to what I can manage at the time, and I will be forever grateful for their flexibility, grace, and understanding.  

“Time will tell, but planners will not.”

 

So, in my life, time will tell, but planners will not. Flexibility and grace have become the keystones of my day-to-day life. The Hashimoto years have taught me to look and think about things differently. Success, to me, isn’t measured by what I accomplished in a day, how many words I wrote, how many rooms I cleaned, or how many things I marked off a list. It is measured by how well I treat my body and what I accomplish with the physical and emotional abilities that each day gives me. I look at myself differently, and honestly, I look at others differently too. I don’t judge someone by appearances, because I don’t know what is going on beyond what I see. Anyone could be fighting an invisible demon that I cannot see, and they deserve the same grace that I would like from the world.

How do you deal with those days when life just seems like too much? Have you found a system that works for you? Feel free to share what you’ve tried or ask questions in the comments below. Sometimes hearing someone else's experience can help you find new things to try.  If you'd like to continue the conversation, subscribe or join our community. I'd love to walk this journey with you.

One step at a time.

One day at a time.

You're not walking this road alone.

With hope,

Chelle