“Siri, remind me to do this. Siri, set an alarm to do that. Siri, what reminders have I failed to get done since Christmas? Siri, remind me to shower.”
I’ve been so busy, even Siri is fed up of my constant demands. It’s been fucking relentless. And yes, I do need reminding to shower.
When the mental load is heavier than a truckload of bricks, my brain fog ramps up and I need reminding to do pretty much everything – apart from eat. (Which entertainingly, says a lot about my relationship with food.)
Last week … I crashed. No surprises there.
This week, I picked the ball back up, and it’s been full speed ahead again. And, surprise surprise … yesterday my body started giving off the usual warning signs that if I don’t slow down, it will bitch slap me so hard until I have no choice but to stop.
So, I stop. And for the first time in I don’t know how long – I have a soak in a bath, relaxing with my favourite bath bomb. My brain is still ‘on’ as usual, flicking between all the invisible tabs of stuff I must attend to. But it is much slower. Slow enough to actually notice myself.
I notice I’ve lost a little weight. I notice my left leg has three bruises on it, my right hand is bruised between my first and middle fingers and I have zero clue what from. I notice my toenails need clipping before they claw their way through the ends of my socks. I notice the final remains of last summer’s blue nail polish clinging onto the tips of my big toenails for dear life. ‘That will disappear once I clip them,’ I think to myself, quietly knowing that I probably won’t get round to it for another week. I notice that slimy, weird-looking dinosaur that’s falling apart in the corner of the bath and can’t believe it hasn’t found its way to the bin yet.
Most importantly … I notice how hard my chronically ill body has been working to meet all my demands, and how little I’ve been giving it in return – until it’s too late.
And I apologise to myself. And equally as important – I forgive myself.
This isn’t the first time I’ve pushed myself too hard. I doubt it will be the last. I am accepting of this. Living with ME/POTS is tough, and despite not always learning from my mistakes, one thing I have learned is this: love yourself anyway. ❤️🩹❤️
