It’s one of those days. Those days when the bully in my head takes over and pushes me down so hard that I can’t get back up.

I woke up thinking negatively. Overwhelmed by the day, the coming weeks, the next few months, life. I just stayed in bed despite knowing that I needed to be at my sister’s house to help my mom with the baby. I couldn’t get up. The thought of a shower was too much so, when I finally got out of bed, I stuck my head under the faucet in the bathtub and rinsed my hair. Okay. One step down. My legs took me downstairs where I was able to start the coffee pot. I let the dogs out. I ate something. I went into the living room, sat on the couch, and started bawling.

By this point, I was having a hard time breathing through the gasps and tears. I called a friend and talked through it a little bit (again, trying to talk through the long pauses of holding my breath and attempting to stop the tears). I managed to get out a few words, “Maybe I should just cancel today!” The call didn’t help my immediate distress. I was going through tissue after tissue. I hugged the dog, hoping to feel some relief. Of course, as I’ve mentioned before, dogs can’t talk back…so she wasn’t much help either because, after a while, she squirmed away.

I suddenly remembered my therapist telling me that sometimes doing nothing is self-care.

I canceled my day.

I was in no way available to show up for anything or anyone today. I knew my limits. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone else if I were to push myself to do the things I was supposed to do today. Sometimes in recovery, it’s just not a good idea to try to push limits.

There will always be another day.

Sending light and love, Kel.