I am finding that mentally, it was easier to allow myself to rest when I was under treatment. It is only day one of my recuperation, but I am already looking around the house and feeling pressure to get the house back to rights the way it normally is, not that my family hasn’t been busy keeping up the house and the chores associated with it, but I have my own expectations of how I pitch in and I am feeling, I suppose a little guilt, laying around. Intellectually I know my body has to rest and continue resting because it has been thrown through the mill.
My job as my husband says often, is to get well. I am going to listen to his wise words though I will be figuring out a reasonable and responsible way to doing what I think needs to be done. I never thought I would feel the least bit of compunction to do housework, it is most definitely not my favorite thing to do, but there is something fulfilling about having a neat and tidy home. The three dogs aren’t helping with keeping the house clean, what a surprise, lol.
I am going to give myself permission to take it slowly one day at a time. I realize that this isn’t a major revelation, but it amazes me how difficult it can be to convince yourself otherwise of things that should be immediately self-evident.
Another reason to take it one day at a time, in the grand scheme of things, is my rest is much more important than a daily vacuumed room.
Writing about this is much more helpful than ruminating over it and giving myself a stomach ache. Writing is such a necessary tool for my peace of mind.
I do realize that what I have written about is so obvious that a it is practically a waste of time stressing about it, however when you can’t stop stressing over it, writing is what I need to do to get the stress out of my head.
My house will be fine, I will be fine, everything will be fine.