The last week was an epic failure! I didn’t get anything done. No real writing. No website post. I did not get my newsletter out. In fact, there were a few days I barely managed to drag myself out of bed to do the things I have to do. 

Sometimes, that’s just life with chronic illness. The funny thing (no, not funny ha, ha) is that if it was anyone else, I would be understanding. I would be there to cheer them on and cheer them up, but it’s not anyone else. It’s me. I’m a whole lot harder on myself than I am on anyone else. Because at the end of the day, I don’t control them, I control me. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not beating myself up or throwing a pity party. However, I do often accuse myself of being lazy. I could be on day three of a migraine that makes voices sound like chainsaws and jackhammers, with only three hours of sleep, and I would still expect myself to do all the chores and any other work possible. Why? I’m breathing, and I’m moving. When I hurt so much I am physically incapable of movement, then I can take a break. 

See how ridiculous I can be? Sometimes we need to offer ourselves the grace we offer others. If it was someone else in my shoes, I would tell them to rest and listen to their body. Everything and everyone will still be there when they get back. This week, I am eating crow and taking that bitter pill of my own words. Maybe next time I will remember to keep my mouth shut. Ha! Ha! Fat chance!