Today was a performance Sunday. The music we performed was great to sing, the service was good, the sermon was interesting. All of it combined into something I wanted to repeat. However, by half way through the first service, I was in pain (my fibro kicking up), and I was tired enough that I was making a few small mistakes in the music that I didn’t normally make. All warning signs that I was pushing myself a little too hard. Two of my close friends in the choir I sing with, who know and understand my medical diagnosis, looked at me and said that they really thought I should go home early, and not sing the second service. I knew they were right, but I had really enjoyed the service and wanted to sing through it all a second time. I told them they were right but that I didn’t want to go home. There was part of me that felt like a little kid. “I don’t wanna. I don’t wanna!” was overpowering “Leaving early is sensible. If I stay, I’ll probably be in bed the next two days.” Sometimes it’s just so hard to do what we know we need to do in order to take care of ourselves. We look around and think “Other people don’t need to do this, dagnabbit!* I want to be normal. Just normal. Is that too much to ask??”
With my friends’ encouragement, or shall I say, gentle pushing, I was sensible. I went home. I consoled myself with a cup of tea and Beethoven’s 6th Symphony. And then some pain medicine and a nap with my dog. Dagnabbit.
*As famously said by Elmer Fudd in Bugs Bunny cartoons.
Zebra's Child 