Who am I kidding? Only myself.
There is no secret. Only real stuff here.
Last week I was stressed. I had 'overbooked' myself.
It wasn't the mildly stressed state where a tub of ice cream or a bottle of champagne could remedy the situation. It was the, OMG, how-am-I-going-to-survive-these-next-few-days-and-can-I-lock-myself-in-a-spa-for-a-month-and-disappear kind of stress.
Going to the gym is my catharsis. I've been improving my strength, I'm lifting more weights, and I'm getting in better shape. I love seeing how I grow and I love what training does for me. It's my escape.
(And to keep my body and mind going to help all that work together, I of course get adjusted regularly.)
But last week I had to cut my workouts short. I was only able to go to the gym twice, instead of four times. I had a seminar to go to. All the way out in Derbyshire. First time there. I was thinking, WTH is Derby? (Lovely place. Love the accents. Gorgeous rolling hills.)
I had to go to this seminar because I want to be skilled and competent in newborn tongue-tie diagnosis. (Excellent seminar. Definitely worth it. Now I'm confident that I can do that.)
That was Wednesday to Friday. Got home late Friday night. Totally knackered. Saturday morning had a full house of adjusting people. (That actually brings me good energy because I love adjusting. I get in the zone.) Finally, I got home, and gathered up my kids and the camping gear, and set out to somewhere near Southhampton, waaaaay out in the boonies.
My husband looked at me like I was crazy. He says to me, "There's 2 problems. 1. You are knackered and you don't want to go. 2. You promised Soph and you have to go." (My husband was never going camping in the first place, so the whole adventure was on me. Oh, and at the last minute, Max decided he wanted to stay home with his daddy.)
(SIGH. I kept praying for rain because I told Sophia when I booked the camping trip that if it rained, we weren't going. Yeah, forecast had no rain in sight.)
I came this close to throwing in the towel and giving up.
But, I realised what I had done, sucked it up, pulled myself together, and made the best of it. We jumped into the car and off we went. And we got there. I begged three of the male friends to help me put up my tent because by that time I was pretty much brain dead. I needed to borrow their male brains and male muscles.
(Thanks guys! You saved me!)
Tent went up easy-peasy. The girls were absolutely drunk with excitement. I plopped down on a lawn chair. And people were offering me some Prosecco.
Gradually I started realising that I was actually really happy that we made it to the boonies for this camping trip. I felt really good. My stressful week was turning out A-OK! In fact, I loved being away from the city, breathing in the clean air, hanging around friends, and enjoying the moment.
There was a lesson in this, for sure. I need to take on fewer responsibilities. I didn't HAVE to make all these promises. I didn't HAVE to pretend I was Super Woman. I didn't HAVE to do anything I didn't want to. And it was important for me to be totally OK with that.
When we got home on Sunday, I was so damn relieved I survived the week. And I was especially very aware of the fact that I stayed on course, kept my promises, and still made the most of it. I came out strong.
I had to learn the hard way though. I think my husband would tell me I'm stubborn. He's probably right.
(I choose to say another word: I'm unstoppable.)
But I also have to learn how to slooooow dooooown.
And get adjusted!