A few days ago I threw out my back. My immediate response and only choice was to slow down. Way, way down. It is honestly almost painful for me to do so little. What a wake up call. I have looked into my babies eyes a little more, played a little more catch, let the dishes pile up, said “oh well” to the vacuum, and just lied around a whole lot. Miles has not seemed to mind, nor has Rowan. They both seem quite content to have their mama’s utmost attention all the time. Granted it takes three times as long to meet their needs, but they do get met. Eventually.
My chiropractor could be considered alternative to some. He is a firm believer in many of the same things that I am but with some things goes to the extreme. I mean, the man doesn’t eat grains. Of any kind. Ever. Really??? This is one point that I can not comprehend. I need my grains in order to survive. Well, maybe not survive, but certainly in order to thrive. Anyways, he made quite the point that throwing your back out can be sort of a metaphor in your life especially if it tends to be chronic. Well, sleeping only a few hours at a time for months…ok lets be real…two years and two months-tomorrow (but who is counting?), the whole milk/weight ordeal, and just trying to keep on keepin’ on with a couple of little babes can add up to a little stress. My normal outlet of running being put on hold, could have just been the straw that broke the camels back. I need to run. I need it for my sanity and as soon as I am better I will begin again. But this time with a different approach to my day-to-day.
What I am trying to say is that I need to be more peaceful damn it.