It has been just over three weeks since I broke my arm. Technically, it's probably closer to three and a half, but then who's counting? :) Thankfully my arm is healing well and I'm getting more strength back every day. On Saturday, I made up for three weeks of not driving by traipsing around the countryside. I still haven't started cooking again though.
Not cooking(or baking) has probably been the hardest part of this whole ordeal. Although having an extended and forced break (no pun intended) wasn't a bad thing, what I make is how I measure my success. I've struggled with chronic fatigue syndrome for almost a year now, and fought with depression for even longer. When either of these conditions flare up, I stop. CFS saps my energy, leaving me unable to do most things. Depression attacks my ability to concentrate and be motivated. As a result, I measure both my emotional health and my daily victories by what I do, especially cooking and baking.
I really love food. Several of my friends have commented how much they enjoy listening to me talk about food. Apparently my eyes light up and my face goes soft and dreamy when I begin talking about food. I enjoy cooking, especially soups, but baking is my happy place. Probably because I also really enjoy eating and sharing my baked goods with friends, family, neighbours. But for the past three weeks, I haven't been able to cook. It has been a very hard and frustrating place to be, especially as I have a jar of mincemeat on my counter that I was going to make into squares.
It has been very easy to feel like a burden, especially to my wonderful husband. I've struggled with not being able to be productive. Steve and I have had many conversations about where my value comes from over this time of rest. I like to think that I'm slowly shedding the detrimental beliefs on where my worth comes from. But I'm really glad that my time of rest is almost over and that I can start being deliciously productive again.