Doing things right, as far as I am aware, which involves doing very little.
But that still involves aching arms and legs, which basically complain if asked to do *anything*.
Last night involved a case of "yes, I'll be more comfortable if I roll over, but do I want the pain that getting there will involve?"
Yes, doing less, and yes, I'm doing whatever I do as gently and economically as possible, but I'm still getting the impression that the the bar is being lowered on me.
The temptation to rail against the five minutes in an hour, or to break that rule (it's only a guideline, really), is less that it was. Any time I do stop, solidly, my body likes it.
And that's not just laziness because my mind is having its own battle with frustration, and wanting to be busy.
Most of it accepts that the current duty is to rest and recuperate, to give my body a chance to find the resources to start making itself stronger.
But there is definitely a loyal (so far) opposition which rarely ceases making its own perspective clear.
"Let's get busy: you'll feel so much better for knocking things off your 'to do' list, less of a nothing and a nobody."
A dangerous subversive voice, too, which suggests pushing too hard just to "show everyone that I am really ill, and do fall apart if I'm active." This, to counter the niggling nag that keeps suggesting "this isn't a real illness, you're just lazy and dodging work."
No, I don't actually hear them and I'm not mistaking them for separate bits of personality. But I'm used to considering arguments and situations from a range of perspectives, and that's not going to stop any time soon. It's more a reassurance than a danger, even if it can be tiring.
I'm rather more concerned about being comfortable and easily dogmatically certain, and wrong. I'm not quite ready to throw critical thought and doubt overboard.