Those are wise words I’ve heard on numerous occasions from my therapist, usually when I’ve been spending so much time worrying about other people that I forget to take care of myself. “But what do you want to do?” he often says after hearing me explain why I’ve made numerous decisions on what “needs to be done” because of other people.
I mention all of this in an effort to explain what I’ve been up to lately. Primarily? Worrying about other people. Doing things for them. That sort of thing. (Oh, and not running. At least my appointment with the doctor is today.) If there’s one thing I have absolutely learned over the past year and a half, though, it’s being able to recognize at what point I end up exhausted and needing to pull back and do things just for me. Fortunately I actually have some stuff ahead for myself. I’m leaving work early tomorrow so I can pick Julie and Scott up at the airport, and while that on some level does fall into the “other people” category what I’m looking forward to is seeing them after their trip from Tokyo. So that’s going to be great. Especially if it takes them a while to get their luggage and I’m just sitting in the “cell phone waiting area” reading a book. Yeah, I actually really like that idea.
The rest of the week isn’t so structured, aside from plans with Charlie on Wednesday and a birthday dinner for one of his friends on Friday. Both low-key. And tonight and Thursday night will be just about me, and no one else. I plan on staying in, watching some television, reading some comics that have been piling up, and just enjoying not doing anything else.
But even better is this weekend. I’m off to Chicago with Charlie and I cannot wait. Just a long weekend with him and me, on our own schedule, away from everyone else. I feel like I’ve known him for ages but we’re still finding out things about each other. (It’s the little things that amuse me the most. Like our love for Prince’s “P Control” and our sorrow that he won’t sing it in concert any more.) The last time I went to Chicago was in November 2004, and I was hardly in the right frame of mind; I’d been suddenly and (slightly unexpectedly) dumped the day before I was due to leave, not the best way to start a trip. I feel bad for poor Scott, Mike, Robert, and everyone else (I could keep listing names but you get the idea) who had to put up with my melancholy feelings throughout the weekend, although they’d cheered me up a lot. But this trip? Well, provided history doesn’t repeat itself in pre-trip events, I’m really looking forward to it.
Members of my extended family love to joke, “It’s all about me,” if the attention shifts away from them. This weekend? It’s all about me. And it’s all about us.
Is it Saturday morning yet?
EDITED TO ADD: And I left my wallet at home today, which has my insurance card in it. Which I need for the doctor’s appointment. *sigh* Yep, definitely hitting the point where I need a break. I’m not normally this forgetful.