Sunday night, I had a little chat with myself. I’d spent the weekend getting my world in order: I planned outfits for the week (this deserves it’s own post…coming soon); I took an inventory of my kitchen to confirm I could eat all week without blowing money on groceries or take-out (probably another post of its own…); I put every yoga class I could possibly attend as a recurring appointment on my calendar (so many post ideas as I write this!). No excuses not to do this week right.
As I settled into bed, I told myself something like:
Ok, this week? You are DOING IT this week. No more slog. No more drag. Get up with your alarm. Get yourself out of your apartment. Make plans and keep them. Try being an active participant in this life of yours. Get back into it. Do it.
And then I woke up sneezy and achy on Monday morning. Because of course.
No matter. I pushed through it. It’s just a tickle, I told myself. It’ll be gone by tomorrow. Keep going, you got this, keep going. I made the day a crazy productive one and got myself to a film screening that night. I’m doing it!
By Tuesday afternoon, though, I had to give in. I’d tried pushing through and this cold wasn’t having it. I left work early, crawled into bed and didn’t leave for twelve hours. I woke up feeling worse than before and begged off work partly to save co-workers from getting whatever I’ve got and mostly because I couldn’t imagine leaving my bed.
Physically, I’m feeling better – still snotty and congested, but I can deal with that over exhaustion and dizziness. But dangit, this wasn’t supposed to happen this week! I had a whole staycation just two weeks ago that I could’ve easily spent sick in bed. No where to be, nothing to do…that would’ve been great! Miserable, but great.
As I sat in bed this morning trying to breathe through both nostrils, I couldn’t help but stew in my own bad luck, that just when I was finally getting back into my own life (why I was out of it is also it’s own separate post!), I’m downed by a stupid cold.
Enter my Patron Saint of Life, Elizabeth Gilbert, who just today posts this insightful, honest bit about being a complete mess and loving yourself anyways.
But I am loved and I am worthy, and you are loved and you are worthy.
God gave me a human soul to take care of (my own) because God thought I could handle it — and even when I can’t really handle it, I can handle it, because I stubbornly insist upon holding that soul in a place of love. No matter what.
And God gave you a human soul to take care of, too. (Your own.) You are in your own care. You have been placed in your own custody. You have been released on your own recognizance. You must learn to embrace yourself even when you’re screwing everything up left and right. And that embrace means simply this: BE NICE TO YOU.
If ever there was a perfect messaged delivered at the perfect time, right?
