Keeping me down

Whenever there is a period of time where I have troubling booking up a season of photographing weddings, I have learned that it is because the Lord will need me to stay down and get extra rest during that time.  It used to terrify me, causing self-doubt concerning my work and the future of my business and should I save face and throw in the towel.  Nope, I am just going to need a break.

This fall was one of those. I tried repeatedly, invested greatly, in trying to secure a few last minute weddings - yet nothing was falling through.  Since I had had such a busy Spring and Summer, I figured I was allowed a little break and moved back to Austin to enjoy life without photoshop for a while.

I popped up to Salt Lake City for pop's 60th bday in blessed Sundance (that place is prozac for me) and before I made it back to Dallas, I popped back into my ob/gyn's office for my annual.  I could tell something was off, the endometriosis was doing something and told the doc about the recent soreness that felt very similar to how I felt just before ovarian cysts have ruptured in the past (by far the worst pain of my life).  She did an ultrasound and sure enough, 4 cm cyst.  This was Thursday at 3:30pm and by 4:45, I was at the surgical surgery pre-registering for my surgery that would be happening the next morning to have it removed.  That surgery is no big deal, not that painful and I would much rather go through that than wait for it to rupture (remember? worst pain ever).  Surgery happened, everything went fine, cyst removed, insides cleaned out, endometriosis deemed 'not horrible but there' and life moved on.  I even cancelled a photo shoot that was supposed to happen the following day, yeah, it wasn't going to happen and I felt absolutely no guilt about it.  Progress.

Four days later, yeah, I broke my foot.  You see a pattern..  I have these huge barstools in my apartment and had my purse resting on one. When I grabbed it, I somehow dragged the barstool down directly on top of my foot.  Wind knocked out of me, I winced and writhed and then tried to just walk it off. As in, walking all over a bumpy field for two days during Austin City Limits.  Yeah, common sense never was my strong point.  Yet, if I could put pressure on it than it couldn't be broken, right?  Wrong.  It got more and more swollen, blacker and bluer, and I headed into the ER for an xray with my head held in shame five days later.  

See.  There were plans for me.  Plans that involved me needing to be free of work for a while.  Plans to stay down and rest.  I have repeatedly learned that if I won't go down willingly, the good Lord will intervene and knock me down.  For good reason, of course.

Today I made pancakes.

Today I made pancakes.  As in, that is all I did.  The whole day.  I had had a busy couple of days, made a quick trip up to Dallas and back, and there really wasn't anything that absolutely had to be done, and man, I was craving pancakes.

I woke up around 11, deliriously exhausted and wondering what on Earth I had been doing for the previous 10 hours while I thought I had been sleeping (running around holding a desk over my head?), forced my head off the pillow and needed.pumpkin.pancakes.

With recipe pulled up on my phone, I walked into the kitchen and just stood.  This happens often, I miss home cooked meals and always have grand plans to cook them but the minute I am in the kitchen, my head starts to spin and I realize I have nowhere near enough energy to pull it off. I then slap peanut butter on a piece of bread and go lie down.

Not today, today was the day of pancakes and if it was the only thing I was going to do, it would be the making of these pancakes (from scratch, I might add).  I did just that, making an enormous mess yet fully enjoying my finished product.  I walked back to bed and collapsed, my day's work done.  I fell back asleep and didn't wake up until after dark.

Some days will just be like this.  And it sucks.  I think about all of the things that can be accomplished in a day, getting hitched, having babies, working, traveling, all that I used to accomplish in a day - running 10 miles, working 12 hours, etc, and I feel guilty for my wasted day of rest.  Many think that bed rest is a dream come true, 'oh the books I could read! the movies I could watch! the sleep I could get!  Actually, it is miserable, lonely and depressing.  After a day in bed, you feel ten times worse about yourself and your life than you ever should - but for that day, all that you needed to accomplish, you did.  Where did we get this notion that if we didn't work ourselves to the bone we didn't earn the right to take a day off?

You just have to let these days happen, and move on - thinking about all the things you can do once you are well, realizing in order for that to happen the bed rest must come first.