I went to bed fighting last night...
Or shall I say, this morning.
Fighting for sleep--for rest--for peace of mind.
I'm exhausted--physically, mentally, and emotionally--but I press on. We all have to. I'm picking myself by the boot straps and everyday, I'm making the choice to get out of bed, brush my teeth, shower, get clothed, and put my hand on the door knob--go to work or school, come home and reflect, and do it all over again. I sometimes find a way to eat at least one proper meal a day.
I'm amazed at how much a seemingly mindless or rudimentary routine can serve one in times of deep grief and stress. It's like, my body knows what needs to be done for me. My body is my saving grace.
I have to remind myself of that, often...remind myself to be nicer to her--my body. I have remind myself to listen to her (mostly)--to really hear and interpret what she's trying to say to me. For example, I practice a vegan diet about 4 days of the week; BUT, if my body wants Chobani yogurt or rotisserie chicken, she's gonna get what she deserves! I mean, like why not?
We bargain so much in life--should I wear this or that? Should I go to the gym or not? Should I finish this professor's homework or the other's? I mean, we're constant making decisions--constantly negotiating our lives? Should I date this person because they have XYZ or should I wait for the person who offers ABX? God, if I do this, will you do that?! I mean, so many choices, so many decisions, SOOO much deliberating...so much bargaining. Not enough listening.
So I eat what I feel is best for my closest informant--my body. I get in bed at 8pm if I feel like it because #mybodyspeaks. I have praise & worship at 2 o'clock in the morning because #mybodyspeaks.
My body speaks exhaustion today. I got a lot accomplished working on about 4 hours of sleep. I'm proud of myself, but my body is speaking rest, not celebration, in this moment.
So good night, world. Let your body lead you to greater clarity. Let your body heal. Let your body speak.