Sitting in a tub full of hot, salty water in the middle of the day, I watched the steam rise and breathed in as much as I could to hopefully help clear out my lungs.
I rubbed my leg and noticed a bruise.
Another mystery bruise.
I have no idea which sick person I’ve come in contact with this time, nor how I’ve managed to hurt myself yet again without knowing it, but that’s how life has been — one big blur.
Less than a month ago, I made the decision to close my photography business. The toll it was taking on my health was one I could not reconcile, but more than that, I felt like I could no longer breathe. I was bogged down in the busy, running from one thing to the next, adding instead of subtracting, holding on even when better things came along.
In the last several months, I’ve been sick at least 3 times (and winter isn’t even here yet), and I’ve had one emergency room visit. I literally owe more in medical bills now than I made in photography all year. Truth. But the debt I’m in to myself is even greater. I can’t get well because I haven’t allowed myself to settle down, to rest, to let go of trying to always be superwoman. Rest is a foreign concept, something I’ll do when I’m dead, thankyouverymuch.
Yet, I’m working myself there really fast.
This weekend, I finally found room to breathe. I read a whole book. I haven’t read a whole book in such a short window of time in FOREVER. After coming out of the fog of a small migraine (is that an oxymoron?) that blurred my vision, I decided I just needed to stop the madness. Yes, I have stuff to do, but more than that, I cannot spend every other weekend trying to get well before another work week. Something has to give, and I really don’t want it to be me.
Accepting my new position at the pregnancy center might seem like it was a bad idea when I was already working a full-time business and part-time everything else, but it was the best thing I could have done for myself. In the acceptance of one thing, I was able to begin the letting go of another; I made a choice to take better care of me. Granted, it’s taken near about two months to catch up and find some even ground, but the changes finally gave me some room to breathe. Once my photo list got down to one last big task, I could scoot back a little and see that all these changes are really the best thing for me.
I don’t want my life to be a series of illnesses and mystery bruises and blurred moments, things I cannot account for, ideas I can’t hold onto because I’m moving too fast from one thing to the next. I want to have time again to write, to read, to think, to pray, to breathe, to be. Sometimes a decision sounds really crazy to everyone else, but you get it. You know what you need, and only you can take charge of the life you really want to live.
Can you breathe? If not, what do you need to stop carrying/doing/stressing about?