This last week was a down week for me. As in, I was literally lying down for most of it. I got necessary work done, but by and large I really needed a break and for the first time in my entire life... I took a nap. This was a source of guilt for me, napping isn't productive and I've long since bought into the rhetoric that productivity defines our success. But not if it's half-baked, unfocused and disassociated. The world was better off with me resting for a few days. 

We got back from a wonderful one week cruise to Alaska with our family last Saturday. After a week of breathtaking scenery, some family bonding time and way too much dessert, adjusting back to normal life was more than I had bargained for. Although I didn't have sea legs the entire cruise time, including the various towns we visited, my house had instantly transformed into a boat. I carefully navigated my way from kitchen, to bed, to couch, trying not to let any imaginary rogue wave offset my tea. As I closed my eyes vertigo set in and I could feel my new house boat careening ahead, my own bedroom window transformed into a porthole. And I was nauseous, and exhausted. I crashed on the bed, made an appearance for what might have been dinner hour, and then fell back to sleep for another twelve hours. The next day I was still intoxicated with seasickness and it was all I could do to get the basics done around the house - feed the cats, empty the dishwasher, water the garden. I felt stupid. Unproductive. I was relieved to know that I was not alone. Apparently a few of my fellow travellers were under the same curse.

The week did not really improve. I needed to take my necessary 'me' time and I was grateful that my work schedule would allow it. It was a lesson in forgiveness, of myself. I'm not sure if anyone else expected me to be wonder woman this last week, but I certainly did. I figured I'd keep running on course, carrying on with the plans I'd set the week before I left. But my body had other plans. "Oh no," it said, "you belong on the couch." Ug. I felt terrible reading books on the couch and I wish so much I could have enjoyed the downtime, but I can't say I did. The work I didn't have the energy to focus on remained top of mind - so annoying. My usual creative thinking descended into unappealing black and white scenarios and I managed to doubt pretty much everything I had going for me. I sat on the couch with my own worst enemy, waiting for something to shift.

That shift did happen, and as usual it happened with exercise. I went for a walk in the woods with friends who have 2 dogs. The dogs were happy, my endorphins were up and I felt just a little guilty when I took that nap I spoke of above. Then I went to the gym, more exercise.

So what's my point? The world didn't stop because I did. It certainly didn't fall apart. The only person affected by my lack of wonder woman-ness was me, and my patient husband. The cats were thrilled that I had adopted their lifestyle of sleeping, eating, cleaning, sleeping and I knitted half a glove. I will be a better person for it next week when I will be relying more heavily on my performance mode. When we run in high gear for so long, sometimes we need the extra time. And it's pretty pointless to feel guilty about it.