Rise Up

I’ve been listening to Andra Day’s song Rise Up on repeat lately…

(Click link to hear it in YouTube)

Because as Winter gets closer my fibro flares up, and so does my anxiety. Winter blues is a real damn thing. Especially if you have mental illness and chronic pain battling it out for attention!

So. I wake up. I stretch. I feel which part of my body is giving me the shits the most. I rise up. I make a cup of tea. I get dressed. I listen to music in my head phones, chuck the heater on aaaaand stretch. Move through some basic yoga moves. Test my memory from my PT stretches and go through as many as I can.

Move to a faster track and dance. Shake out these cold bones and aching muscles.

I might read. Visit a friend. Write. Hell, I might call my mum or just veg out on the couch.

Whatever it is, I find the happy thing and do it. Because I’m motoring along ok right now. But that never lasts.

So I focus on the joy. Which you can find anywhere, if you’re willing to look for it.

You can find it strolling down the street at a bus stop.

Or taking the SUV for a squirt down a muddy track with the dogs.

You can find it when you hit jack pot and take home a crochet blanket from the local Sunday market.

Or while watching Picnic at Hanging Rock on Foxtel and being swept away in nostalgia. Seriously, that show is like walking through poetry. Stunning visually and fans of the book will adore it.

You can find it sitting in front of the heater, thinking about reading a book, but really just lounging with the cats.

Or trying to do some work, but getting distracted by how cute the pup is when she snuggles with the grumpy old Nikki dog…

Or in photo’s of a rainbow neon city tunnel texted to you from a cousin…

Joy is in the small stuff. You gotta store it up.

Like a layer of blubber protects a whale through winter, so too will a layer of happiness be a cushion against bad days. And really bad days. Store up the good so you’re strong AF when the bad comes ‘atcha. It’s just good practice.

Trust me, I’m a Doctor.

Well, ok, I’m not. Just a mouthy chic who’s been on this tightrope now for nearly two decades. Yep. I’m old as hell. Ok, I’m still this side of my mid 30’s. But I got some mental health miles under my belt so just trust your local crazy lady ok? Layer yourself up in joy. It lasts longer that way.

Stay weird peeps,

X Bon

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