I’m at what I hope is the tail end of a nasty summer cold. Crushing headache, painful cough, so many piles of Kleenex. It’s been a while since I’ve had anything as mundane as a cold and I’d forgotten how unpleasant they can be.
There’s something about the psychology of summer sickness that hits a little harder than other times of year. It feels like you’re the only one glued to the couch with lethargy and snot while the rest of the world picnics and paddle boards the day away. I went there a little bit this past weekend.
Each day I continued feeling crappy, canceling one day’s plans, and then the next, and the next, it became increasingly tempting to get lost in my mind’s assessment, and judgment, of the situation. Especially when running low on reserves, the mind—ok, my mind—can get a bit dramatic.
There will be no more fun parties, ever.
Why am I so sick? There must be something terribly wrong with my immune system.
Just take more Advil, shake it off.
It’s only been a week of my life. I’m fine. And it hasn’t been that dramatic. But it has been helpful to see the pattern: each time I caught myself caught up in thought, I was also checked out on my body. Less likely to feel what it really needed in the moment, and less likely to respond with care.
Although I think spa days and pedicures are pretty great, they don’t exactly define “self care.” They aren’t the only options available. Self care shouldn’t be a special occasion.
Self care is the conversation you have with yourself when your body hurts, and is messing up the plans. It’s showing a little kindness, or at least not being so cramped, in your assessment of things. It’s dropping your resistance to how things are.
Meditation can be an antidote to FOMO because of the whole present moment-ness of it. There’s nowhere else to go or get to except this singular moment. However dreary or divine, this situation right here, right now, is it.
xo,
Christa
Share this post