“Give yourself some grace.”
This is a phrase I’ve heard often lately. “You’ve had a rough few months.” “You’re going through a lot.” “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
I’m eating way too much ice cream.
“You’ve had a rough few months. Give yourself some grace.”
I’m spending way too much time with my bed and Netflix.
“You’re going through a lot. Give yourself some grace.”
Sometimes I just don’t even know what to do with myself.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. Give yourself some grace.”
I’m giving myself grace, but it’s too much. I just need to say that: it’s too much. Grief is one thing; grace is one thing. Giving up is something else entirely.
Staying in bed on a rainy day when you have no obligations and can indulge yourself by binge-watching your new favourite show is lovely. I’m all for it.
Staying in bed because you can’t figure out what to do with yourself and can’t summon the — the what? What is it that’s needed to not let depression win? Energy? Strength? Motivation?
Whatever it is, I don’t have it right now.
I stare in the face of JUST DO IT, and I don’t.
It – whatever it is – should be a simple thing, but it’s not simple. It’s a giant chasm, in fact. It’s the difference between maintaining mental health on the one side and just plain not coping on the other. Between staying in bed and getting up to do something. Between eating all the ice cream and not. Between eating, period, and not.
There’s grace and then there’s giving up.
“Perhaps your expectations are a smidge high,” a friend said.
“Just give yourself some grace,” they all say.
“You’ll get through this
Move past it
“Just give yourself some grace.”
But not too much, I think.
After all, there has to be something left when I come out the other side.