February bulged at the seams. It bulged so much that the writing part of my brain didn’t have room to move. There was the usual busy stuff – like dashing around with my kids, paying bills, and trying to remember the birthdays of 8 important people in my life. (Because clearly they must be born all in the same month for no compelling reason).
And then there was the SOS. It was my body. Waving flags madly at me. It’s been trying to get my attention for awhile now, but in January it was sending off flares.
So in February I knew it was time. I started a rescue mission. And I went in hard. I saw doctors, specialists, naturopaths, counsellors, and weight loss people. I googled exotic ailments at 2am. I got blood tests and ultrasounds. I joined the gym, drank green smoothies, and swallowed a trillion vitamins. The veins in my leg were mapped. My liver was investigated. And finally my body wrote in the sand: WHAT TOOK YOU SO BLOODY LONG?
But all this rescuing took time. And that was okay. Because nothing could happen until I helped myself. I missed writing – gosh how I missed this creative space. And I missed many other things too. But without a healthy body, what good is anything else? It’s easy to get caught up in what we miss, even if we are being handed a life rope.
And thus some truths remain:
When you don’t write on your blog for 4 weeks, the world keeps spinning.
When you’re not reading other people’s blogs, people will keep writing them.
When you’re not on twitter, the universe will keep talking without your assistance.
Do you know what feels better than ‘not missing out on things’? Not lying awake worrying if I’ve got cancer again. Loving myself enough to rescue myself. And knowing today is better than yesterday, and tomorrow will be even better.
I’ll get back to my writing in good time. The salvage has begun. The mission continues. I will take all the time I need.