On falling apart

Sometimes, thanks to my illnesses, I just fall apart. Yesterday was a fall-apart-day, and I spent it feeling sorry for myself.

I’m sick.

I’m tired.

I’m sick and tired.

I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.

This is a tiring life.

I don’t always struggle to find the silver lining in those grey clouds, but if the lining were bright orange, or even a beautiful blue, I think it would be easier.

Thankfully, Coop gets me, and though he had to preference something he said to me yesterday with “I don’t want to sound like a dick, but …” and he was right. I burst into ugly sobs when he told me what I needed to do, and my immediate thought was “but you are a dick!” He was right.

Yesterday, I woke up feeling sorry for myself and I went to bed feeling sorry for myself.

Today, I pushed for a different story.

When I woke up earlier than Coop, instead of lazing away in bed, I got up, rolled out my yoga mat, and did some modified sun salutations. I breathed deeply with the intention of opening my heart to a new day and a new mood. I hoped to #choosemymood instead of letting it infect me.

I notice that even as I write this (and sip on mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm my coffee) I’m sitting taller, more alert (could be the coffee) and I generally just feel better.

I chose my mood this morning. I’ll choose my mood again tomorrow.

What mood do you choose?

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