Like most women of my generation, I have habit of putting myself last on the "to do" list. The family comes first. Himself, and the two boys, my mother, my mother-in-law, the local church, whatever. They all seem to get my attention long before I do. So when I actually got around to sitting down in the big chair with the massaging rollers making their way up and down my back and having the sweet Vietnamese teenager gently massage and tend to my feet I was a little surprised to find myself in tears. You'd think it would be a pleasant experience, wouldn't you? And you'd be right. Except I realized that I'd been traveling at warp factor six away from the things that were bothering me. I tended to them. I took care of them. I just didn't think about them. When I stopped for a moment there was a massive highway pile up of stress. I'm nervous about finding a new job. I miss my two sons who are away at fabulous (expensive) schools. I'm not nuts about watching my mother fade like a picture left on a windowsill too long. And Flanagan went and died on me without saying "See ya!", the jerk! There's a lot going on and I need some tender attention from myself. Flanagan always admonished me to "put my own oxygen mask on first" so I could take care of everyone else and I always waved away the suggestion with a "yeah, yeah, I know", but the truth is I need someone to remind me because I forget. We all need to take care of ourselves first.
And how are YOU doing on that score? I have rose-colored toenails. It's a start.