Last week, I was in a rut. Who am I kidding? I’m still in it.
Can I put my finger on why? Not really. There are things I want to do, things I’m concerned about, things that are boring me, things that are just wearing me out…and I am a hormonal creature and my back hurts.
The bottom line for me is that when the internal dialogue in my head related to getting off my butt to get something done (the most mundane and doable of things like doing the dishes, running to the market, finally pulling the last load of laundry out of the dryer and folding it, packing lunches, washing my face before bed, etc.) lasts more than 15 seconds, I know I am in a rut.
And unfortunately for my housemates (with the exception of Stitch), rut me = impatient, cranky me.
Last Tuesday morning, my crankiness was reaching a fever pitch. I just felt nothing was right. And I realize how completely galling it is for a healthy woman with a healthy family to even utter the words “nothing is right” but I was feeling it and thinking it.
I returned to my desk after ripping Jeff for one of two things (doing something or leaving something undone) and was just disgusted with myself. It has taken 40 years but I am self-actualized enough to know when I am completely out of line.
I got up, walked down the hall to his office, waited until he was off the phone and did something I remember encouraging my kids to do during their pre-school years. I used my words.
“Honey, I’m sorry. I’m just not my best self today.”
I don’t know where I first heard the expression “my best self” or “your best self”. Probably from some psychologist on the Today Show. But it resonated with me because some days we suck and some days we suck less and some days we suck not at all.
Jeff tilted his head to the side and looked at me with a kind smile of genuine sympathy. “I’m sorry, baby. Is there anything I can do?”
The words were all he needed. They somehow completely undid the wrong that I had just done.
Today, eight days later, I am feeling slightly above my mediocre self...but I have my eye on the prize.
Of course I Google searched “my best self” and “your best self” in an attempt to satisfy my curiosity about the origin of the words and to maybe find an inspiring clip or quote to share. All manner of self-help books and pink and purple blogs with diet tips popped up.
Here’s a catchy little ditty, instead: