too tired for ballet this week.
I haven’t had much time to write with getting my head around all I missed at work while off with nuisance cancer treatment #2, but I do appreciate all the sweet inquiries. As I sleep at home a third day in a row while Siteman reviews new labs to investigate why I’m again sleeping the 15-18 hours a day WITH Rx in my system, I’ve had an epiphany of sorts.
When our body isn’t what we want, we get down on ourselves. And as high-achievers, it feel immensely powerful to our self-esteem. Much like an individual struggling with an eating disorder or depression, we feel unlike the self we remember or envision ourselves to be. It feels like failure. And while I know logically, I lack patience, and this Rx adjustment is part of the process for this “junior mint of cancers”, I feel my body and self-betrayal and haunted feelings of failure arise from within. It brings back ugliness from past ick in my life, and makes my already too busy mind race with why and what and when did this all begin.
But really, does it matter? No.
And yes, I know that too.
I didn’t choose this darn illness, nor do I control the Rx adjustment, alternative solutions or long-term prognosis. What is clear is that I must do a better job of making positive and healthy choices to eat better and stay present, so the mind-racing, self-doubt, questioning, negative self talk and “shoulding” on myself will stop.
I’ve never quit. Not after the motorcycle fall, not after he told me he was done, not after the first ER visit. Instead, I did learn to crochet (to be fair, I haven’t mastered the turn), and I started ballet in my 40s. But damn, I’m too tired this week to do either.
I am too busy for this silliness to take away precious days with my family, friends and daughter, not to mention a great professional home. I’m simply too Type A to be down, out and alone so much! Sickness just gets in my way.
My best friend encourages more time on the mat and meditation to find peace, but without the darn organ that normalizes metabolism, even a good dose of my yogi self and a little ballet wipes me out.
So, back to the title question, why do we allow feelings of failure and negative self-talk when we didn’t originally choose the nuisance in the first place?