I've spent the past two days on the bed, barely able to move except for those needed trips to the bathroom ... over and over. I am up today for a bit but soon will crawl back up the steps and crash again. My mind is assailing me with thoughts of falling further and further behind on all the things I need to do, want to do. My body says, "slow down. rest. heal."
When I was a younger mom and the kids were mostly littles, this type of thing didn't get me down. It couldn't. Mom's have super human strength. I guess I thought that would never go away but it has. Thursday, yesterday, today I feel like a whiny three year old who really just wants to be left alone until she feels better ... just bring me some ginger ale from time to time.
In small bursts of lucid moments, I think, what lesson do I learn from this ...because there is always a lesson to learn. It is a different variation of the same one that I've been trying to learn for awhile now. Surrender to what is. Fighting doesn't make it go away. Resisting doesn't make it easier. Lean in. Go soft. Surrender.
So I am sick for two or three days this week. So that means I didn't get things checked off my to-do list. So what? The to do list is still there. Nothing is urgent. The things that I feel are important are still there waiting for me.
I have a habit of piling more on my plate that I can possible handle, expecting more of myself than is humanly possible, and then feeling completely less than when I am not able to meet my own standards. I call it creating a too big container. I've been preaching about this to myself for over a year now. Small calls to me but I don't listen, I don't answer. I reach for more and more and more.
I'm ready for balance and that is a word that I usually avoid because it conjures up an image in my mind of someone plate spinning, keeping all the things in motion at the same time. No. I am done plate spinning. I am ready for the balance that comes from being completely centered. Slow down. I wrote about it on Tuesday and my body is just giving me a huge reminder right now that I have to mean it. Slow is my just right pace.
Ok. That's it for today. I'm exhausted. There's a little part of me that clicks the save and publish button and revels in saying that I did this today. Another bigger part knows that being here, writing words, is part of my slowing down, focusing on what fuels me, what I need to be doing in this moment.