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You guys.  I have beating myself up for an entire week because I am not healing as fast as I would like to.  I am not healing according to the imaginary deadline that I set myself.  I had my gallbladder removed on Friday.  I was going to be fine by Monday.  Tuesday at the absolute latest.  When Wednesday rolled around and I nearly passed out trying to make myself coffee before work I was exceptionally displeased.  I was disappointed in myself.  I felt as if I had let everyone that counted on me down.  Rob had dealt with me being ill long enough, we needed to get back to sharing the load.  I was tired of him having to wait on me.  But, I was still in pain and I was still exhausted.  I was eyes-crossed, completely unable to focus, falling asleep at my desk exhausted.

For all that I have learned from what seems like an unending amount of expensive education, I am still learning to be kind to myself.  I am my worst critic.  I hold myself to a higher standard than any one else.  I am easily bogged down in self-flagellation when I don’t soar through the imaginary hoop that I have my eye on.

So, by Friday I was exhausted from going as if I had enough steam and from the constant flogging I was giving myself for not being okay.  I wore a skirt without shaving my legs.  I didn’t do my hair.  I stared at my computer screen blankly.  For quite awhile.

Enter our office manager.  A retired nurse.  She was floored when I showed up on Wednesday looking somewhat decent.  She was the first person to tell me that I probably should take more time.  I wouldn’t be okay, 100% okay, for a month.  A MONTH.  That is way more than the three days I have myself.  And the thing is, I don’t know where I got the idea that three days is what a person needs to recover.  Apparently I need nine.  Because, I am feeling quite good right now.  Almost normal.  I am sure I will continue to tire easily for quite sometime.  I left work early on Friday.  I just couldn’t hack it anymore.  I went home and napped.  And it was glorious.  I still feel guilty for leaving early though.  One step at a time.

It does make me think, I am going to need a constant conga line of positive reinforcement when/if we have a baby.  I know that I will try to do it all and throw an internal hissy fit when I realize I have to give up and let pregnancy win. So, I am learning to be okay with my body not meeting the deadlines I have set for myself that are based on nothing, other than what I think I should be capable of.  It turns out, telling yourself that you can make it through finals, law school, college, what have you, is nothing like willing yourself to be healthy.  Apparently I am not capable of self-healing.

Lesson learned.

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