I have this routine. It keeps me focused and motivated. Yesterday, discomfort was my distraction. I spend a large chunk of time on my sofa typing away in an effort to complete my book. Apparently, I have pissed off my Piriformis and am extremely uncomfortable. I would write then ice. Write some more then stretch. Sit on a pillow. Remove said pillow. Walk around and stretch some more. Add a heating pad to the mix. The smell of menthol permeated the air as I sprayed Bio Freeze on the area. The Bassets thought it was playtime when I would stretch. And I learned that menthol is related to cat nip which is why Oreo was high as a kite and not open to me removing her from the area where I was sitting. It was a shit show. Sitting. Standing. Lying on my stomach. None of these positions brought any relief. And writing? Forget about it. It was a lost cause. The whole situation made me more bitchy than usual.
I put on an air of flexibility. That I can easily go with the flow, but that is an illusion. I like order. I find comfort in routine. But, when my body is screaming at me, I need to pay attention. I need to take the time and practice “easy does it”. Apparently, I am being given a lesson in patience. Which, for the record, I despise. I am also becoming aware that sitting on my ass is a detriment to my health and that I have become my own pain in the ass.
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