Peaches and Lillies

I'm sure there will come a time when the nest is just where I live and I no longer go into a swoon when I see the washer/dryer. The other day I was sitting at the sink eating a cup of cold shrimp and avocado soup and noticed a shadow of the plants on the ceiling. The ceilings are cement and covered with industrial-ish markings. I love them.
There are things about my life that are still difficult. I'm still in pain. I can take out my own garbage but by the time I get back inside I'm in pain. I can't go for a walk around my neighborhood. Pain is an internal thing. I'm not always sure my friends understand how much of it I experience. And then there's my wobbles. I always feel like I'm walking on a tight rope.
A handful of things have slowed down my unpacking. I think next week things might pick up. At least the things that are about other people. Things having to do with my ability or lack there of will no doubt stay slow. Heh.
Pattie has written about the issues of disability for awhile. I've been reticent to understand myself as someone who is disabled. I keep thinking if I could swim more, or do more yoga then I could walk better and there's some truth to that but my knees are too far gone. The nerve bundles in my feet make me wobble. Even surgery might not help.
I just need help. So often. And I hate it. I hate needing help. I hate asking for help.
Maybe the thing that's the hardest for me is when someone does something that seems to be oblivious to my disability. This happens a lot in stores. People walk in front of me, slow me down, send me into a wobble. I think I'm more impatient about this kind of lack of awareness because I grew up with my grandparents so from a very early age I needed to be aware of their needs. I had to be there when they needed someone to lean on. So I am confused when people don't get it. And vulnerability is not a mood stabilizer. My emotions are always extreme and reactive when I feel my own need.  
I'm hoping to get a scooter. A scooter will increase my independence by yards.
No matter how bad I may be feeling there are things about the nest that make me smile and feel better. I am anxious to have things in place. Books on shelves. Pictures on walls. But Jane brought me bounty from the Thursday market including a bunch of flowers that would have not been affordable in SF. When I woke up the nest smelled like peaches and lilies.