No attribution for this one, but it’s particularly apt for me this weekend.
I rarely surprise myself. Mostly because I am a creature of habit and routine, as I’ve said many times. So when I do, it’s almost, well, even more surprising.
I slept in on Sunday. I took it easy both Saturday and Sunday. I did not force myself to work. I… well, I kind of even… slacked off?
This it not typical of me. I’ve written about how I suck at rest and giving myself grace.
That means that “days off” don’t typically happen. I’m almost always working at least a little bit every day.
But I went home sick one day last week, and I never do that.
And then Saturday I felt like garbage again, but I pushed through and probably made it worse.
By Saturday afternoon, I knew that my body was basically telling me that I needed to just. stop.
So I slept in. I got 8+ hours of sleep. It. Was. Marvelous.
I ran outside. I ran really really (really) slowly. But I was outside, listening to the birds, seeing the sun rise over the lake, and loving it.
I didn’t even jump right into work when I got home. I took my time, showered, made some granola, read the paper (online, sheesh, it’s 2019 after all ;>), and even took a mini break to, um, organize the coat closet. (So, so needed…)
Yes, I did get some work done. I sent emails. I worked on the “boring” documents for my grant. I got great comments and suggestions on the narrative for that from a colleague. But I didn’t jump right into making changes because I knew my brain needed to disconnect a bit, and that this week would be much better if I were able to do so.
Still surprising myself in my mid-forties…what fun it is to know that I don’t know everything about myself yet…and I probably never will.