“Rest is a full-time job,” a friend emailed me.
And right now, it is.
Last week, I had a breast reduction surgery. Full anesthesia. Surgery at noon, went home at the end of the day.
It all went well. I feel good, no pain, just swelling and tightness and not being able to do much with my arms. And I need to rest for two weeks.
I went in prepared: I have a list of series to watch and books to read. That, plus taking naps, a short walk around the house and eating healthy, is all I’m doing now.
I love it.
I’m enjoying it.
And …
It’s interesting to see the thoughts the mind throws up on autopilot based on old conditioning and habits.
I notice:
A tendency to turn healing into a project.
To rest the right way.
Eat the perfect food.
Do everything right and then some.
The good-student syndrome.
Wanting to do healing well.
Like it’s a test I need to ace.
As if it’s important the nurse will give me a compliment when I arrive at my 2-week check-up.
Slight guilt.
For doing nothing.
For my partner needing to do everything now, even though he’s super busy. (It’s no problem at all for him. That doesn’t make a difference.)
For not spending my time more productively. In addition to healing I could easily write a book, couldn’t I? Typing is allowed.
I’m not taking the bait on any of these thoughts and tendencies.
They’re just there one moment, gone the next.
Like the rain that’s dripping down my bedroom window now.
What’s left:
Gratitude for a body healing.
Lightness, in every sense of the word.
The coziness of wearing pajamas all day.
Love,
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