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How I Learned To Fall Down With Compassion
I’m rounding out the end of a week from hell. Somehow, I contracted a mysterious gastrointestinal illness that quite literally knocked me on my ass, down on my couch, curled up in pain all throughout the day.
And though I prefer to write at least one piece or part to my book a day, that number has been a whopping zero since this illness came on. I’ve been too distracted by a stabbing pain in my upper abdomen to be able to put my ideas into words.
For someone who is trying to build her career in writing, this has been a devastating blow. I was sad for the first few days. I beat myself up; dismissed my pain in exchange for accusing myself of laziness. Pain? Ha. Writers can write no matter what. You’re just choosing not to.
But it hit me that I’m only making my situation worse by beating myself up. I know stuff like this, the parts of life known as the “lows,” is out of my control. By telling myself these things, I was choosing to make myself feel worse.
I accepted I was in a low and not going anywhere. I decided, instead, to take this fall down with compassion; for the situation and most importantly for myself.
Because this time it was my stomach, but next time it could be a job loss, a breakup (although I’d need a boyfriend for that one), or another sickness. Regardless…
