here's the thing: i believe that i deserve time to myself. i really do. but in the beginning of my summer, especially this week as my kids are in camp and i am working by myself, i find it hard to give myself the full chunk of time that i crave.
so this morning, i go out and exercise, macklemore in my ears, feeling really, really good. its cloudy and cool/humid today, and the birds flew in front of me constantly. i saw a male cardinal, which i always think is my grammie making herself known. the cars were kind to me, and gave me a wide berth on the streets.
my body reminded me how good it feels to do this kind of thing. and it reminded me that it is still strong, capable, and lovely, even at 151 pounds.
then i get back home and i start to stretch and do hand weights and i think, should i stop now? shouldn't i do things? shouldn't i plan, work, organize?
on the other hand, shouldn't i just do more of me?
i am giving myself permission to take a shower over five minutes long, with no interruptions or other bodies needing to use the bathroom while i'm in it. i am also giving myself permission to read a magazine during lunch, and to finish the article even if i am done eating.
i know, its shocking.
not every moment has to be filled with things accomplished. simply sitting here, breathing, listening to the sounds of massachusetts--this is enough for me this morning. all i really have to do is look out the window.
lucky, lucky me.
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