Strangest week. Pulling myself out of bed every morning to get to the gym has required a strength of mind usually reserved for attacking the Great Wall of China or crossing the Alps.
It doesn't help that this nausea thing has expanded to include pretty much every time I eat. Travelers on I-17 North yesterday were treated to a lovely sight of me losing lunch by the side of the road. I barely made it to the restroom this morning at Wildflower before my $7 eggs-and-toast made a reappearance. I've halved my morning green shake and sip it very slowly with lots of time between sips.
Apparently, my stomach of iron is corroding. I suspect an ulcer, but I will hopefully get some relief from going to the doctor later this morning for her insight.
Due to poor planning and procrastinating from discontent on my part, by the time I arrived at the gym this morning, I had about 20 minutes to get in a workout. 20 minutes means core! Yay abs! There were a lot of scary guys in the weight room, and not feeling my usual chipper self and a bit self-conscious that I would throw up in front of them, I just went straight to the stretching mats and did my thing there.
My frustration with myself turned into delight that I actually showed up and did something worthwhile.
How? I just decided that dwelling on it didn't help. And I had breakfast with my dear Lori this morning, and she is ACES at reminding me that everything really is okay, and everyone gets overwhelmed sometimes, and she is totally okay with the crying thing. (sobbing and saying, "really, everything is fine!" does seem a bit incongruous in hindsight.)
Except everything IS fine, and sometimes, it is okay to be human and tired and sad and not sure where to turn or what to do. And someone holding your hand and saying, "It really will be okay" makes it feel that yes, it really will be okay.
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