When My Body Says No
I had a little bit of a breakdown Saturday morning.
I had been looking forward to the weekend all week. I had so many things I wanted to do and create. I was excited to make Soap-Doh, experiment with sidewalk chalk, and spend some time working on projects that sounded fun.
Then Saturday finally arrived.
And I wanted to do absolutely none of it.
I don't get it.
I felt that way most of the weekend. In fact, I tried going to bed at 6:00 p.m. last night. A friend showed up just as I was shutting down and locking up the house, so I stayed up and visited until 8:00. The minute he left, I crawled into bed and passed out almost immediately.
My alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. this morning. I thought, "Perfect. Nine hours of sleep. I'll have some quiet ME time before daycare."
Nope.
I got up long enough to use the bathroom, then crawled right back into bed and reset my alarm for 6:30.
The only reason I'm up writing this this morning instead of still being in bed is because I'm hurting. My back is stiff and sore enough that I knew I wasn't going back to sleep.
I keep wondering if this is just my age and current state of health. Maybe I simply don't have the energy I used to have.
But then I remind myself that the shop move was a massive undertaking. It consumed over a year of my life and created a level of stress that I don't think I've fully recovered from yet.
And let me be really honest here...
My diet has been awful.
No wonder I feel awful.
I've spent so much time focused on projects, deadlines, the move, the shop, daycare, and everyone else that my health keeps getting pushed to the back burner.
When the weekend finally arrives and nothing is demanding my attention, my body isn't excited to create.
My body is saying:
"Please stop."
"Please rest."
"Please take care of me."
Making Soap-Doh and sidewalk chalk sounds fun. Meal prepping doesn't.
But here's the irony.
I couldn't do either one this weekend because I didn't have the energy.
I forced myself to make the sidewalk chalk because I had waited all week to do it. It flopped, and I didn't even have enough energy left to try the Soap-Doh afterward.
Instead, I kept the grandkids overnight and finished up some notebooks I already had started.
Yesterday, after they left, I convinced myself a shower would help.
You know that feeling when you're sure one thing is going to turn the day around?
Nope.
I took a shower, ate some food, sat down in my chair, and then spent far too much time scrolling Facebook and TikTok trying to motivate myself to get up and do something.
Anything.
Mike and Michelle showed up to work on the pool, so I went outside to help.
That's when I got stung on the eyebrow by a bumblebee.
Because apparently the weekend wasn't finished with me yet.
I'm allergic to bee stings, so of course I panicked, came inside, took an allergy pill, and grabbed an ice pack. Over the next several hours, the swelling spread through my eyebrow, around my eyes, and into my nose.
By evening, I felt miserable.
I ate a frozen pizza and decided I was going to bed early.
Then David showed up.
By the time he left, I crawled into bed and called the weekend done.
So here we are. It's Monday morning.
I have molds full of failed sidewalk chalk that need cleaned out.
I have a stiff back.
I have a bad attitude.
And honestly, I'm still tired.
Which leads me to the question I've been asking myself all morning:
Am I depressed?
I don't think so.
I don't feel hopeless.
I don't feel sad.
I don't feel like life is falling apart.
What I do feel is exhausted.
Bone tired.
The kind of tired that doesn't disappear after one good night's sleep.
Maybe this weekend wasn't laziness.
Maybe it wasn't a lack of motivation.
Maybe it was my body finally demanding the recovery I've been avoiding.
Maybe after spending so long surviving, pushing, building, moving, and carrying responsibilities, my body is asking for something I've been unwilling to give it.
Attention.
Care.
Nutrition.
Movement.
Rest.
The truth is, I keep asking when I should set the fun projects aside long enough to focus on my health.
Maybe the answer is when my body starts making the decision for me.
Because if I don't make my health a priority now, eventually I won't have the energy for the projects I love anyway.
So this week, instead of asking, "What can I make?"
Maybe the better question is:
"What can I do today that helps me feel better tomorrow?"
One healthy meal.
One walk.
One earlier bedtime.
One better choice at a time.
That's probably where recovery starts.
Not with motivation.
Not with willpower.
Just with listening when your body says enough.
Journal Prompts
What signs has my body been giving me lately that I've been ignoring?
If I treated my health with the same dedication I give my projects, what would change?
What is one small thing I can do today that my future self will thank me for?
