Uninspired and half breathing


Ever have one of those days where you get up and wonder why you are making the effort? That was me this morning, been fighting a cold for the better part of a week. I don’t do sick very well, meaning that I try to continue on as if nothing has changed which most of the time works just fine but this cold was having none of that. I got dizzy and disoriented, had to go to bed early and take medicine.

This highlighted an area of my life that still needs good deal of work and self-love. Sure its easy to love myself when things are going my way and I feel inspired. But on days like today I just want to scream and kick myself in the but so we can be “productive,” but what does that mean? My husband so aptly pointed out “Its your choice, get stuff done or be good to yourself.” And I have to admit I have never really thought about it that way before.

I thought that the “getting stuff done” defined my worth not how much I “cared” literally for myself. I’m not good at being “good” to me. I don’t like complainers and I hate this in myself, so I try to plow on through every thing. It gets things accomplished but there is a part of me that knows it just got told to sit down and shut up because “we” didn’t have time to stop.

What? Might you ask am I really rambling on about? Respecting myself and realizing that sometimes I need to come first, before the to-do’s, the cat food and the dishes. Sometimes taking time to love me and keep this body healthy is more important than all the rest. I keep thinking that the “not productive enough” police are going to come and find me and make me feel bad for sleeping in, eating hot cereal and taking a bath, but so far they are nowhere to be found.

I remember when I worked away from home and prided myself on never taking sick days unless I physically could not come to school. Why did I do that? Why did I push myself so hard? I’m not sure I have the answers to all of these questions yet but I know that if I’m thinking about it’s because its time for a change.


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