A Sunday Spent in Bed.

Guilt is my go-to feeling on days like today.

Guilt for disappointing others

Guilt for being weak enough to let my dodgy mind stop me from completing simple tasks (washing my massive mane of hair for example).

Guilt for feeling sad when others have it much worst.

Guilt for allowing the inner demons to take over.

Then the guilt gives way to the soul-crushing disappointment. In myself that is, because I thought I was stronger than this, I desperately want to be stronger than this, yet here I am, 11:20am on a somewhat pleasant and occasionally sunny Sunday, camped beside a beautiful lake, curled up in my sleeping bag (that, let’s be honest, isn’t even that comfy) physically unable to get up.

It’s 11:20am and I’ve had to pee since 5am and my bladder is quite possibly about to burst yet every time I sit up this invisible force pushes back on my chest and all thoughts of relieving myself go flying out the window.

It’s 11:20am and I’ve had to pee for 6 hours and if I can’t get my mind on board with THAT how the hell am I meant to convince it that we (because yes, my mind is its own person) should walk 26km on our own and then pitch a tent on a mountain today?

Some days you just have to pick your battles and today I am choosing to wave the white flag of surrender and allow my mind to fully rest.

What makes this frustrating is that I wanted to end this week on a high note.

The past week has actually been lovely. The Miners Way brought me through Leitrim Village and up into Drumshanbo where I joined The Leitrim Way through to Dowra and The Cavan Way to Blacklion. The weather has been exceedingly miserable, but the trail has been overwhelmingly beautiful. I walked past castles, fairy forests, lakes (that I almost skinny-dipped in but then a nun walked by and I was worried that more nuns might walk by and I’m not sure what the nuns opinions of public nudity are), and the Shannon River. I met some of the loveliest people, spent 2 nights in a gorgeous hotel with an absolutely glorious bathtub, conquered a massive anxiety, and found a local coffee shop that could rival my favourite coffee shop in YVR.

Despite all this, the anxiety remains. And it’s been there all week and in hindsight I should’ve listened to the warning bells going off because I most likely could have prevented today from happening. But I wanted to be strong and I wanted to push on and walk and interact and play it cool and this is now my minds way of telling me that I pushed too far.


*side note – my ex and I used to lovingly called each “stupeed” (in an Israeli accent) so now whenever I refer to myself as stupid, I pronounce it in my mind with an Israeli accent*

Here’s why this is especially stupid. I’m a firm believer in listening to ones own mind. *Note* listening, not obeying. I know how far I can push myself before I meltdown and I typically am exceedingly talented at not pushing myself too far, at taking it easy when I NEED to. This week I ignored my mind and pushed myself right over the edge of a cliff. And unfortunately, regardless of being able to recognise that, I’m still unable to snap myself out of today.

So I’m lying in my sleeping bag. Crying periodically, as soon as I finish writing this my arms will return to their spot wrapped around my torso (because if there’s no one to hug me I’ll just hug myself dammit), dreaming of the chocolate bar I thought I had only to realise I ate it 2 days ago (does Snickers deliver?!), feeling little and stupid and alone. But in a few hours I WILL force myself out of my tent, into my boots, and for a short walk (at least into town because I will not survive this day without chocolate) and I’ll begin the process starting fresh and convincing myself not to feel guilty over today.

So I’m off to find some chocolate and maybe even some ice cream as well.

Be kind to yourselves darlings.

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