i didn’t make the bed today simply because i didn’t want to. instead, i organized the pantry and took the dog on a long walk. i even cleaned the stove, though it won’t seem as so once i cook dinner. the summer term began monday, but this afternoon i decided not to take any classes. i ate an apple with some peanuts, wishing the entire time they were peanut butter. it’s 7:34pm EST and i’ve weighed myself twice since waking up.
growing up going to church, i must have been told to “love thy neighbor as thyself” a thousand times without ever being taught what it meant to love thyself. based on the booming business of self-care, i’m probably not the only one who has no clue what it means. despite what i’ve told therapists, i can’t even physically look in a mirror and say “i love you.”
it’s like we’re all out here lookin’ for validation without even liking ourselves. why do i think that? well, damn, everything from instagram to costco is telling us we aren’t good enough and *mostly* we’re believing it. and why do i think that? because “self-improvement” is a ten-billion-dollar-industry. google it.
i’m just as guilty as any other schlep, with my monthly manicures and $100 lunches. the american way– lest we forget– is work hard, play hard. which helps explains the guilt for only working 40hrs or staying home to read. and i’m sick of it. 33 is knockin’ at my door and i have a few goals.
first: “busy” can longer be my response to “how are you?” second: if i eat ice cream for lunch, i am not allowed to have remorse. third: a full schedule does not mean a full life. fourth: just because it’s on sale, doesn’t make it right. fifth: MY happiness matters.
life is full of enough bullshit. if you don’t want to make the bed, don’t.