The great and powerful, mystical Life Octopus has handed me one if its dick tentacles… a life lemon, mayhaps. I have awoke with a familiar burning pain in my neck. One that has filled me with dread and a deep foreboding onism. My shingles has returned like a shitty, racist relative you had hoped had forgotten about you but still shows up, uninvited on the fucking holidays.
Now, I have a high pain tolerance. Me and pain have an understanding. I ignore pain and pain is like “yeah… cool bro… I’m still gonna keep doing my thing.” And I’m like, “sweet… can I make you a cuppa… PSYCH! Fuck off…” and then pain is like… “yeah… nah.” And then I flip pain the bird while we sit in silence.
I got through both child births with out pain relief or even making a noise other than an uncomfortable whimper. It hurt like all fuck I just have good pain coping strategies.
But shingles… shingles can go eat a giant bag of dicks… like a giant bag of giant dicks…
Why do I feel the need to share this with you all? Well… my getting shingles is a sign. It is a sign that things are getting too much and my body is telling me to ease up on myself.
So often we push ourselves and push ourselves, believing that we need to just soldier on, just get this work done, just work harder, just get through this week, this month, this year… THEN we can rest. Even if we are not physically doing something, the stress of outside forces take just as much of a toll on our health.
The stress of my outside forces is enough… then I pile on homeschooling and parenting & feeling bad for not parwnting better. Looking after myself & feeling bad for not looking after myself enough. Getting projects finished and trying to create daily & feeling bad for not doing enough to pursue my dreams, feeling like there is not enough time to ever acheive all that I want to. Trying to be a good daughter & feeling as if I could never be the daughter my parents deserve. I may not have a nine to five job but my plate is overflowing…
We are so easy to neglect ourselves, making ourselves feel guilty for taking time out. Watching a movie, playing a video game, going out for a coffee, sleeping in, reading… telling ourselves that we will do that nice thing only once X, Y and Z are done… making ourselves go to the job we hate, stay with people who are bad for us, living in the town we can’t stand, practicing the same routine every day… the one that is slowly killing our souls… but is this really living?
Life is too damn short. Please… treat yourself… do all the things you are saving for “one day”… do nothing at all… tell people you love them… stop speaking to those who bread toxicity… love yourself more…
Okay… panic over… I’m gonna go drink my decafe coffee… cause caffeine aggravates the symptoms… *rolls eyes* *cries a little*