Buck. Up.

There are days when I’m a whiny, pessimistic, crabby, brat.  When I wake up with a throbbing toe that is triple its normal size…it doesn’t bode well.  Now to be fair, my husband is completely willing to play along and cater to my “needs” to a point, after which he basically tells me to take a flying leap.

We had plans today.  We were going to see the brand new baby of very good friends of ours, I had to run to the office to get some things done, we were going to finish cleaning the house, we were going to GET THINGS DONE.  Today I wanted nothing to do with any of it.  I wanted to stay in bed and feel sorry for myself.  Because Lord knows…of all of the people in the world…I have it ROUGH.  I mean I have a toe that COULD be broken.  Hello?!  There should be pity!

Ugh…there are times I get sick of myself.  When I realize what a complete pain in the a-s I’m being.

So, not feeling like the day was going to go as I’d hoped at home, I decided the office shouldn’t wait and that I could run in and out quickly.  Once there, and once working, it seemed logical to just continue to work to get it done.  I came home and folded laundry and then thought I could probably manage to throw in a couple more loads.  While it wasn’t motivation, it was more like admitting things wouldn’t be SO bad if I just did them, and it continued throughout the day.

And guess what happened?!  I got a ridiculous amount of stuff done.  And why?  Because at some point I realized that a for one, these things weren’t going to make my stupid injury any worse, b for two, the increase in pain wasn’t going to kill me (shocking, right?!), and c for three, it started to feel completely amazing to get all of these things done.

There are days that I can seriously come up with nine million reasons why I shouldn’t do something.  Whether it be something at work or doing something at home.  I can spin it in all sorts of ways in my head until an entire day has passed…and while I might feel like I have a somewhat justifiable reason for having avoided the task…I feel like sh-t.  Put several of those kinds of days in a row and I feel totally horrible about everything.

Today, at some point I just decided to stop whining (both in my head and out loud), and just effing buck up and get things done.  Now, a bunch of ibuprofen later, I feel so accomplished to have done so much today.

I’m well aware that I can be ridiculous (this will become blatantly clear as time goes on) but I’d like to think that as I get older I’ll be more and more quick to snap out of it.  What a waste of time and energy it would have been for me to sit around today feeling sorry for myself.  And I would have been so mad at myself tonight for being such a baby.  Phew!  Dodged that bullet!

TODAY:  What if I spend less time talking myself out of what I should be doing and just buck up and do it?

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