Taking care of myself in more ways than one

Today’s post says it all.  I learnt a long time ago the importance of taking care of myself.  I’m no good to anyone, let alone myself, if I’m tired, sick or falling apart.  How good are we at taking care of ourselves really?  Especially those of us in the helping professions who give of ourselves.  How do you recharge your batteries?

Seems a simple question but I often wonder whether I do.  Case in point.  I’ve taken a job teaching skiing, a very good thing for me.  Gets me outside, in vitamin D land when the sun is out, gives me a sense of contributing and giving back by doing something I love.  I also discovered spending hours in a snowplow bent over kids comes at a physical expense.  Soreness with a capital S.  Hello muscles.  I thought I had rediscovered you a month ago when I got out on skis.  Well I’ve reached a whole new level of soreness and rediscovery.

So I’ve been taking good care of myself, eating well, lots of sleep and my favorite weapon: epsom salt baths.  This post is a story around them.  I could not get out of bed yesterday morning.  Rocking myself out of bed I wished I had someone to give me a hand.  Stairs were pure torture.  Sitting down is a controlled movement filled with ohhhs and ahhhs.  So I asked around and a friend of mine offered up his soaker tub and a rub down.  Sweet deal, no?  So I got my aching self over to his place.  The bath was fabulous, up to my chin in delicious lavender scented epsom salt water.  Next came the rubbing of muscles with goop.  The pain a necessary evil to release lactic acid, not to mention all the stored emotions in my body.  Grief takes its toll on bodies and goodness knows I’ve been through enough of that lately. 

So, all in all good until he took it upon himself to put the moves on me.  What? No!  Not what I had signed up for at all.  No way.  Now he and I had previously gotten together a year ago and at the time it was so about him it wasn’t even funny.  I walked away from the whole thing.  So yesterday as he kept putting pressure on me, I reasoned, he pressured, I reasoned some more, no go.  So I got myself up and out fast.  He apologized for being way out of line.  Um yeah, no kidding.  Is it hardwired in men that because a woman gets into their tub and they offer a massage that things are going to inevitably lead to sex?  What’s with that?  He even had the gall to say he didn’t want any emotional involvement to which I replied I wasn’t the same woman as I was a year ago.  For me, from now on, sex comes with emotion, involvement and ties.  No going back to old me.

So I may have put myself in a vulnerable position by trusting someone but I ultimately took care of myself.  I deserve more and better.  The universe is a master at testing my resolve and I passed with flying colors.

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