There are a lot of frustrating things about living with RA. Sometimes, I have bad, grumpy, awful weeks, and other times my weeks are pretty great despite my immune system gnawing on itself. This week has been a bad grumpy awful week. Yes, some of it is stress - with my job, with my personal life, with my body (which is clinging onto weight like crazy, despite my best efforts). But really, this week it's been one little thing that has really set me over the edge:
No, really. This week, it seems like everything I want to eat, throw away, put on, or otherwise use comes in packaging that constantly defies my every effort to tear it apart.
I love my hands. Really, I do. They are fantastic, they do great things for me, and I need them to be my hyper-organized, super anxious self. They help me organize my life. I love my hands, even after the RA tore through them and made my always-stubby fingers look like little dinner sausages. Even after the weird osteoarthritic node grew in my thumb for no reason whatsoever. Even after my useful right wrist got all swollen and sore. I still love my hands.
But MAN! This week, my stubby little fingers are so tired of trying endlessly to open bags of salad and fruit cartons. Is it really that difficult to fashion some packaging that is easy and simple to open? Does opening my new yummy bag of salad REALLY have to feel like wrestling with a balloon? How come my yogurt has, this week only, decided to come with an impenetrable, nuclear explosion-safe lid? Why is my fruit packaged in a bomb shelter?
Because this is really how it feels to have my hands this week.