self care vs being useful
I'm in bed, it's almost four o'clock. It's almost dark again because the weather is the level below grey. I haven't left the bed for most of the day, only left to have a shower and go to the loo and such.
Just now I was reading, when a voice inside me said I should do something useful.
I actually smiled.
In the past hearing those words replay within my mind would have me pushing myself into doing something that would destroy the limited energy I have remaining in my battery.
Instead, I opened my posting window for my blog.
I know where this voice comes from: my mom. It's so ingrained in me. I have to do something useful to matter, or that's what it felt like when my mom kicked me off the couch as a kid and told me to do something useful.
(as an aside, it's still ingrained in her, even now Alzheimer's has taken over, slowly.)
I used to tell myself on days like this that I was procrastinating. 1,5 years of being very ill taught me that I'm not. Recharging now means that I hopefully have enough energy to go to physical therapy tomorrow, and to go visit my niece's birthday on Sunday.
I'm going to have a bath later, and then I will probably continue reading, or I might pick up my knitting needles again. If I'm lucky, I might even write. What I won't do is run around like a maniac, trying to prove my usefulness.
This is as useful as I come.
PS I love my mom, the only reason she pushed me to be useful is because someone told her to be useful when she was very young, and it stuck.