Identifying Native Flora and Thinking about Being Fit, but Disabled

Goddamned birds ate my pea sprouts.  Only two plants had germinated and the birds ate one.  That really put me in a funk this morning.  But I draped some lengths of chicken wire over the bed and by late this afternoon several more had germinated.  So, whew. 

Went for my usual afternoon walk with Siris, today under cloudy skies.  On the way home, it started to rain, the first rain in a good long time.  I felt ecstatic, with the feel of the rain on my skin and the smell released by the rain hitting the soil and plants.  Sometimes when it rains the world smells like sagebrush.  Not today, though, it didn't rain hard enough.  Siris wasn't as pleased with the rain as I was.  He doesn't like to get rained on.  We came home and he tried to rub it all off on M.  When M. wasn't having any of that, he tried the couch and the carpet. 

I'm making a concerted effort to photo-document and identify the different types of flowers, grasses, trees, and bushes that grow in this area, for my own edification.  These are all new to me, since I learned my flora while living on the East Coast, in the Midwest, and in Central California, and hadn't spent much time in the high desert before we moved here last summer.  Here are a few that are in my collection so far (any corrections would be welcomed): 

Claret Cup Cactus

Thick-Sepal Cat's Eye

Copper Globemallow

Prairie Flax

Pale Evening Primrose

Desert Star (this one is growing out of a vertical wall)

I'm feeling kind of tired and down this evening.  The whole eating better thing has been going great, though.  My latest discovery is decaffeinated black tea.  I made up a batch and put it in a glass jug in the fridge after it cooled.  I was getting tired of just drinking water and my cravings for diet coke had disappeared, so I was looking for a new kind of drink that didn't have added sugar or artificial sweetener, and something without caffeine so I could drink with paying attention to whether it would keep my up at night.  I'm liking it.

I made falafel (which M. says they used to call fal-awful when his parents served it when he was a kid), tzatziki, and hummus, with cucumbers and tomatoes.  I added some locally produced whole wheat tortillas and feta cheese I got from the Dixon Coop.  My mom said I was a good cook when she saw what I was making for dinner; that was funny, because while she said it, I was feeling self-critical because I didn't make the falafel mix or tortillas from scratch. 

Tomorrow, we are making a trip into Santa Fe to pick up my first order from the cooperative buying group.  I also have to get some blood tests done and a chest x-ray.  I've reach a milestone of sorts: I've lost twenty five pounds since last September.  I attribute most of the weight loss to majorly reducing the amount of beer and hard cider I consume.   Going forward, after I reach my optimum weight, I  imagine that if my overall diet continues to be a healthy one and I'm exercising regularly, I'll be able to have a few drinks once a week.  But it's clear that I can't eat like crap and drink all I want and expect to have a healthy body. 

I'm wrestling with how to think about this idea of a "healthy body."  My medical problems will not magically disappear if I eat healthier and get more exercise.  I'll still have scars in my brain tissue that create symptoms such as balance issues, and I'll have symptoms from my autoimmune problems, such as fatigue and joint and muscle pain.  From what I've read, symptoms such as these are often reduced for those who suffer from autoimmune diseases, but they will not go away.  So, when I think about the changes I'm making, I know that I will not be able to work my way to an absolutely healthy body.  But it can and will be healthier than it was.

Another thing I'm having a hard time thinking about is becoming healthier with a body that is technically disabled.  I am anticipating judgments by others that if I can exercise, then I must not be disabled.  I'm imagining these judgments becoming sharper as I increase my physical fitness.  I find myself wondering, "Am I still disabled if I can now walk three miles?  And what if eventually I can jog two miles?  Will I no longer be disabled?"  I'm torn in my own mind, because those abilities seem to indicate a lack of disability.  But what I'm experiencing now is an increasing level of fitness and  continuing disability.  For example, my hypersomnia and fatigue are still extensive.  I routinely sleep twelve hours at night and need a nap during the day.  It is still excruciatingly painful to sit in the car for a trip to and from the grocery store.  I still toss and turn all night due to pain in my hips.  I'm still having balance problems and mental fogginess.  And the only reason I'm able to gain this fitness is that I have no other major responsibilities or stressors in my life, now that I'm no longer working and considered disabled. 

I find myself imagining:  "Well, if I can walk the way I have been when exercising, does this mean I can now go back to my job?"  But that's a fantasy.  I know that I'm not capable of working a full time job, and if I were to try, I'd lose the current level of fitness that allows me to even imagine this as a possibility,  because I'd be too exhausted and sick to exercise and to prepare healthy food for myself.