Tuesdays are for Torture

Sometimes, I think that self-care doesn’t look like self-care at all.

Sometimes, I think self-care is bullying yourself to go to physical therapy on a day you would rather be doing literally anything else. It’s taking a little bit of time for yourself and then dragging yourself into the shower, and forcing yourself to wash your hair, shave your legs, and be N I C E to yourself.  Because depression is hard.  2020 is hard, and it’s already hard enough, you don’t need to be hard on yourself too.

Self-care is putting on your favorite Burt’s Bees Milk & Honey lotion and putting on your favorite, soft, black leggings, and your incredibly soft, warm, and navy-blue slipper socks.  Putting on your favorite, warm sweater, and doing something nice for yourself. Something like ordering pizza with your family and trying to relax.

Sometimes, self-care looks like work, and doing things you don’t want to do- even when they’re things that you’ll thank yourself for later.

And you know what? I’m glad I did those things. I’m glad I went to physical therapy, even though my foot and most of my leg is in agony. I’m glad I bullied myself into taking a shower, the hot water helped, and it warmed me up because winter is coming to Illinois. The cold is here, and while I wish it would go back to whatever Hell it came from, I know it’s here to stay awhile. Because when I headed out to Giordano’s in my favorite, comfortable clothes, I was warm.

So, here I’ll sit, at my desk picking and nibbling at a piece of pizza, working on a silly coloring book picture. Hopefully, this is how I’ll end up coping with the news that Governor Pritzker has shut down all indoor gaming/gambling starting Friday, which essentially shuts down my place of work.  Meaning, for the time being, I am out of a job.

That’s beyond fucking frustrating.

-S.N.L