Maybe there is no tomorrow.

I've been thinking a lot the last couple of days about what makes up my existence.  I have a degree of MS that keeps me from working outside the home.  I have cognitive problems and a lot of fatigue.  I can't remember the last time I felt awake, like that normal I'm ready to take on the day awake.

House duties are the top of my list.  I cook, clean, do laundry, vacuum, etc.  There isn't much joy to be found in a pile of dirty clothes or that container in the back of the refrigerator with the unidentifiable contents.  I know this is my own fault.  I know there are people that really enjoy the process, like making a home that's neat and clean for their families.  I'm aware of the importance.  I do it because I have to, not because I like to.

I realize that there's this force of "I must do this" when you are out and about at a real job, too.  Work is work.  There are many many people that go out to their jobs every day with great joy and great purpose and come home tired but fulfilled.  There are likely more that do it because they need to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads.  This isn't a feeling reserved for the trapped at home types, I know.  Healthy folks can come home and relax doing something they enjoy after they get home, though.

Unhealthy folks sometimes can, too, but many times cannot.  Even those things we used to like to do can be stuck in the past with the rest of the things I can no longer do department.

My chance to go out into the real world and put my degree to use was slammed almost in reverse.  It's sort of an unknown potential shoved in the back corner of a closet knowing that some day it will just be tossed out because it serves no purpose.

People that deal with illnesses are acutely aware that the mundane things in life hold them back from other things as well (Got spoons, anyone?).  Though no one knows what the future holds, those of us that aren't healthy realize that this might be the only chance to do something, anything.

I volunteer at church and feel that it has real purpose.  I know I am called to the various ministries I help with.  I also know that the MS could rear its ugly head at any time and rip that away like it has so many other things (career, another child, ability to run and play and stay awake all day, etc.).  There's a sort of magnetic draw that says "you don't want any regrets".  If I wake up in a year and can't walk I don't want to be stuck with the "I wish I wouldas" but the "I'm glad I dids".