I woke up with a migraine today.
It was like someone taking a very long nail, and twisting it slowly into my skull. I was mad about it. After nearly two weeks of dealing with human metapneumovirus with a co-infection with bacterial pneumonia (NOT coronavirus—thank you so much for saving my sanity, Bob!), just ONCE, I wanted to wake up, take a deep breath and think, “My, what a lovely day!” And then magically turn into Wonder Woman and catch up on all the things I’ve fallen behind on. I’d clean my whole house.
But no. I woke up with a nail in my head. And it was all downhill from there.
I gained a pound, even though I’m doing everything right and have been stuck at the same weight for two weeks. I wanted to write, but I feel so discouraged with my writing that I can’t seem to muster the courage. I didn’t help Canon with his math problem because math is a fire breathing lava demon that I’ve never been able to tame.
And so I thought to myself, “I GIVE UP! What’s the point of dieting if I’m not going to lose anything??” And I ate 6 Oreos.
And then one of them tasted like a dead bug.
Then I put on my shoes. I asked Oliver if he wanted to “Go-Go” and he gave a resolute nod. I put him in the stroller, buried him under a mountain of blankets, and he cheered “Wheee!” as we went for a mile run. It was my first mile run in months, since foot surgery, and it was slow and it snowed, but I ran it, and Ollie fell asleep.
As I was running, I thought to myself, “Hey… I’m running. I ran anyway.”
It’s okay to be discouraged.
It’s okay to be frustrated.
It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to be scared.
It’s okay to lose sight of who you are and where you are.
It’s okay to not have all the answers.
It’s okay to throw a fit. It’s okay to burst into tears and say, “I just can’t do this.”
It’s okay. As long as you get back up and run a mile anyway.
Making it through hard times, seeing success, moments like this aren’t the end of it. There is light, and it is promised to those who keep going anyway.