With the move, we were unpacking, painting, moving furniture, dropping off old house keys - the works. I would fall asleep every night and crash, feeling like I had just run a marathon that day. We were so excited to be in our new house, but it was definitely an endurance race. After three long weeks of moving in, eating way too much takeout, and wearing the same paint-covered clothes for three days, Spencer and I fell asleep last night as soon as our heads hit the pillow.
In the midst of all of this, articles were left in rough draft form, emails were left unanswered, and the missed calls piled up. When last Tuesday rolled around, I went through most of the day before I realized that it was even Tuesday, and then recalled that there was no linkup scheduled. I knew I dropped the ball, but there was no time to write a post.
All week long, this and the other tasks that I've let fall to the wayside have been hanging over my head, and today, I was nearly drowning in guilt. I feel so disappointed. I really cannot do it all, and I was embarrassed because of it.
The thing is, I'm doing the best I can. Why is it so easy to forget to have compassion for myself?
Even though my first tendency is to criticize myself for not being perfect, I'm holding fast to compassion tonight. Compassion for where I'm at in my recovery, for the slip-up's and hard habits to break, for the missed emails and just barely made it deadlines.
It may feel a little "Fake it till you make it" tonight, but that is the only place to start. I can't do it all, and that is okay. Good enough is good enough.
Do you find it hard to have compassion for yourself?