My plan for this week, on paper, was to complete my three lists of things to do. They created themselves really as I was rapidly approaching resignation. Preparing for the week in between jobs, the unplanned week off for me. I don’t think I’ve ever taken an intentional week off in this way. It has always been planned vacations, with maybe a couple free days at the end. Or there was the time I lost my mind. I wouldn’t necessarily count that as productive. No, this is intentional time off, once in a blue moon. Time you would typically consider wasteful.
My three lists consist of: things to clean, things to organize, things to do for myself. Can you guess which one has the most checked off? I’m trying to find a balance as I complete my tasks, while also being mindful I’m not a robot. At the same time processing the emotions of leaving a 15 career. While also continuing to fit in my new gym routine (I’ve managed to make it 6 days a week since my birthday – don’t clap yet, were only on week 3).
But today was the day I had made an appointment in advance. For a massage and a haircut at the salon down the street. Although we aren’t speaking, my mom sent me a gift card in the mail. It arrived a week before my birthday, and I didnt know what to expect. What do you send when you are giving the silent treatment? But the card and gift were much nicer than expected. Something I never treat myself with for some reason.
But now I had no excuse not to go. Even before my breakdown I would only get hair done twice a year. Massages were rare, but in 2019 I was in so much pain I did get one then (I had a fully body MRI and there was inflammation all over my body but no doctor could help) and my last massage was January 2020. So I walked in today, nervous, not sure what to expect. This is something that I used to cherish if I had the chance. When I got into the robe, I sat down and waited to be called and tears filled my eyes from the amount of comfort I felt. I quite literally haven’t been this relaxed in years.
So I spent all afternoon here, got my hair done. Started a new book. Allowed myself to slow down. I looked around the salon and I wondered why I don’t treat myself more? Why I never bothered to ask myself what I enjoyed? Or why it takes a major life change to finally treat myself nicely? Maybe ill never know. But I do know that I appreciate every moment, every interaction so much more than I ever did before.
So I drove home and I parked my car in the garage, and I hesitated for a moment before I got out. Me from last year would be so fucking proud. Of how far I’ve come, of what I’m doing. Of all the things I’ve accomplished, of what I set in motion. Of being confident in the choices I’m making. Being the one who knows what the best decision is for me. For being able to tame my inner critiques. For being mindful and intentional. For setting magnificent goals. And not doing it for anyone else but me and my son. And so then in that moment I asked why I would be so hard on myself – it is literally incredible how far I’ve come. I went from begging for death to building the life I dream of.
The Girl Without A Face 