Today: second verse, same as the first.
Instead of pretending (like I'd do in the past, I'd keep going, all-martyr-like, until I made myself really sick), I spoke the truth. I. Feel. Awful. (And look pretty awful, too.)
And my real-time angels keep offering the most decadent support:
"I'll pick up Henry from school and bring him home for a play date".
"I'm going to the grocery store. What do you need?"
"Honey, you go to bed. I'll put the kids down."
"Mommy, can I do anything for you?"
When I returned from driving the kids to school this morning, I found a treat bag full of magazines, chocolate, vitamin drink and sunshiney-yellow, we're-here-to-cheer tulips.
Instead of resisting the love and support of my friends and family (I'm fine, I can do it all), I fell, open-hearted into their healing sustenance. I said,
"Yes, thank you, I'd love that and so would Henry."
"Would you please bring me a pint of Hagan Daas chocolate and a rotisserie chicken?"
"Thank you, love, I'll do just that."
And I did. I went to bed. And slept, A LOT.
And even though I'm still sickly and curled up in my sick lair, interestingly, I feel lifted as I lounge, supported. Saying Yes to help is a really, really good thing. Saying Yes to support is as healing of an action as I can imagine.
My lack-of-power brain and I are signing off now. Cough. Sniffle.