I woke up feeling quite sure I’d finally reached the weekend; it took a painful moment to adjust to the realization that it was actually only Tuesday, only 4:00 in the morning, and very much time for me to make my way out of bed and into the garage for a workout. The grogginess didn’t last long, thankfully. I have been practicing the art of manually adjusting my attitude so I can get the most of of these early morning routines.
Work was easy, too easy. It was nice to come back to my normal work location for the day. Everyone here takes the pandemic and the necessary precautions we are taking seriously, including taking temperatures at the door and wearing masks at all times.
I did what I could but by mid-morning I wasn’t feeling well and had to head home early. A quick meal and a nap later I’m feeling much better, still not myself, but better. I increased the dosage of the steroid medication meant to keep my flare to a manageable level so the infusion medication can do its job and I’m already seeing an improvement. And not a moment too soon because my foreseeable work schedule will not allow for many days of self-care or rest.
This evening I’m giving myself permission not to be productive. I’m listening to podcasts, reading old articles I saved, working on my logbook, and brainstorming over my essay project, and productive tasks, but I’m working with no rules, no timers, no goals in mind. Surprisingly, I’m writing better without the weight of expectation or limits. I have to do this more often.
Tomorrow I go back to CPR and First Aid teaching, but I’m only helping out and observing until Friday. I’m looking forward to a morning jog at the track, an afternoon of freewriting, and time to read.