Dear reader,
Today I'm crabby. I feel off my game, tired from a restless night last night, and entirely out of sorts.
But I showed up for myself anyway.
I showed up by getting up early and going to work, lunch packed. I showed up by giving the kids my all, all day long (including extra time after school to help them with their papers). I showed up for myself by going to therapy, even though I thought "I don't have anything to talk about!" (I did, as it turns out.)
Today's joy is that when I felt like crawling under the covers, I showed up in my life and did the best I could, and I'm proud of that. It won't win me a Nobel prize, but it took effort, and I'm not going to beat myself up over not doing more, I'm going to tell the truth: today I did the best I could.
And noticing?
My funny dog who sticks his nose under my arms when I'm typing, being silly to get my attention. A therapist who knows what she's doing to help me.
And a warm bed awaiting me, an early bedtime in the works, because I'm beat.
Tomorrow is another day.
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