I moved onto my new home nearly a month ago and was told after one week that I may need to move out (update: I’m safe for a year).
A friend was admitted to hospital for alcohol abuse.
Sophie changed schools.
I was attacked by a stray cat and ended up on a drip.
If you’ve been reading my blogs, you’ll know that my life has been a rollercoaster the last few weeks.
If you haven’t, here’s a quick summary:
And this all happened in one week. It was like a bad dream that I couldn’t wake up from.
I feel like the universe was trying to tell me something but I wasn’t listening. It sent sign after sign that I needed a break but, as most women and mothers do, but I kept taking these as signs that I needed to do MORE. That I had to make space on my plate for yet another thing – and another and another.
Clearly the universe was tired of being subtle. So she forced me to stop. Quite literally. She sent a cat from hell to deliver an infectious bite to my arm, which required hectic painkillers and antibiotics that knocked me out and made me feel too exhausted and weak to do anything.
So I rested. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t happy about it. But I had no choice.
After weeks of physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion, I desperately needed it although I wouldn’t admit it to anyone at the time. It was stressful having to cancel clients’ appointments because I felt like I was letting them down – and losing money at the same time. I hated not being as active as I normally am.
And I felt guilty.
Because there’s still so much to sort out in the house, because all the drama has prevented me from feeling settled, and because I have a bored teenager on holiday. And with all this running through my mind, I couldn’t concentrate on anything.
So when I woke up on Sunday morningto an eerily quiet house (Sophie was at a sleepover), I was left alone with my thoughts. It was a mixture of panic because of everything I had to do, and excitement because all that “stuff” was aligned with my purpose. But I just couldn’t get myself going. I had the whole day to myself and all I wanted to do was stay in bed.
I had also gotten used to doing nothing. Even if I felt like I could do some light exercise or plan for the week ahead, I found endless excuses not to. Doing nothing was an easy rut to fall into and that scared me. Because it wasn’t like me at all.
I had to give myself a kick up the ass to get going. Dragging myself out of bed was the hardest thing I had to do all week but it had to be done, otherwise I’d still be there.
My point is this: we all need a break sometimes. When it’s your turn, give yourself permission to wind down and really rest. But guard against it becoming too familiar, because that happens quickly. It’s like quick sand. The longer you stay, the harder it is to get out.
Enjoy it while it lasts but snap out of it and get back on track. Your dreams and goals aren’t going to happen themselves.