I’ve been battling The Sickness for a few days now. It seems any little bug that floats through our house takes up residence in my sinuses.
But my blog isn’t about complaining about my lack of hearty immune system.
No. My blog is about something I realized about my mom-side today.
When a mom gets sick, the world generally assumes she will continue on with her usual duties. Very few people, even other moms, stop to think that sick moms can’t even be sick without trying to plan for the care and nourishment of their children. I am especially bad about just letting myself be SICK. Letting it be a time for me to just rest and heal and take care of myself. (It’s probably why I get sick so much. The universe is trying to tell me that the world does in fact continue revolving without me.)
So it seems unrelated that I opened our refrigerator and noticed my roommate bought a jar of peperocinis. But it’s very, very related. Because I love peperocinis. But my son doesn’t eat them. And I love them. (Did I mention I love them?) When I go grocery shopping, I usually have Abe with me. Or I am shopping quickly before I pick him up from school. In short, grocery shopping isn’t really about me. Grocery shopping is about caring for my son. It’s about nourishing his body: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And that means when a roommate comes home with peperocinis, it’s like a special treat for me.
Tonight, of course, I stopped and wondered, “What don’t I ever buy these? What aisle are they even on? What other things are at the grocery store that I wish I could buy?!”
I haven’t been grocery shopping for myself in a long time. I haven’t taken a sick day FOR MYSELF in a long time. I’m also bad about doing ANYTHING for myself. It’s not a martyr thing. I’m not a saint for it. It’s a very sad trait of mine. I will take care of others before I take care of myself. And then I empty myself out so fully that I end up getting sick. I don’t even THINK about buying groceries I want at the grocery store. When I do buy things for myself, I tend to feel guilty about it. When I do anything for myself I feel guilty about it. That is so. Stupid. I certainly don’t want to swing all the way over to entitled. I don’t want that “The World Does and Should Revolve Around Me” mentality anywhere close to my sphere of consciousness. I really do want to love myself enough to fill myself up first, though.
I’m giving myself a task. I’m going to the grocery store after I take a shower and get dressed (and am not dying of a head cold) one MORNING this week. I’m going to spend an hour walking up and down every aisle, and I am going to examine all sorts of food items that make me happy. Not the ones that make Abe happy or that I can use when I cook dinner for Bear. The ones I like.
This is a blog I feel like I’ve written a thousand times before because I am always needing the reminder to take care of myself first. So, I suppose I’ll just keep reminding myself.