Take care of yourself
As I left my counselor's office last night, the last words she said to me were:
"And, Diana...
....take care of yourself."
It may seem simple, but sometimes the simplest things get so convoluted in my mind. One of the major issues I deal with in counseling is my tendency to overexert myself. Whether it's saying yes to too many things, feeling obligated to be at every event, making time for everyone then forgetting to shower, or pay parking tickets, or losing important documents, or missing appointments...I tend to put myself last very frequently and it's something I'm aware of and need to change.
So tonight I took a leisurely trip to Trader Joe's. After I bought the whole store, I walked up to the parking lot on the roof. I took out a peach from the brown paper bag and leaned up against my car and ate that whole, glorious, juicy peach. The wind was warm, blowing through my hair. I listened to the cars drive by and the seagulls caw. There was no rush. I didn't have to be anywhere. I allowed that presentness to carry on into my apartment. I cleaned out the fridge. Made hard boiled eggs. Poorly, I might add. I just rolled one on the counter to try and crack the shell and sighed as it just deflated in yellow goo all over my hand.
"And, Diana...
....take care of yourself."
It may seem simple, but sometimes the simplest things get so convoluted in my mind. One of the major issues I deal with in counseling is my tendency to overexert myself. Whether it's saying yes to too many things, feeling obligated to be at every event, making time for everyone then forgetting to shower, or pay parking tickets, or losing important documents, or missing appointments...I tend to put myself last very frequently and it's something I'm aware of and need to change.
So tonight I took a leisurely trip to Trader Joe's. After I bought the whole store, I walked up to the parking lot on the roof. I took out a peach from the brown paper bag and leaned up against my car and ate that whole, glorious, juicy peach. The wind was warm, blowing through my hair. I listened to the cars drive by and the seagulls caw. There was no rush. I didn't have to be anywhere. I allowed that presentness to carry on into my apartment. I cleaned out the fridge. Made hard boiled eggs. Poorly, I might add. I just rolled one on the counter to try and crack the shell and sighed as it just deflated in yellow goo all over my hand.
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