Burnout is peeking into the window. My sense of self is offended by the source of stress in my life. It wants to ransack my mental space like a home invasion. The aggravation is seeping into the important, fulfilling parts of my life. I abhor the feeling and the amount of energy required to hold myself together outside of the safety of my home.
I woke up on Sunday overwhelmed and wishing for a weekend extension. To-do items bounced around demanding my attention. They day couldn’t end with those items still shrieking and Monday looming. Creating more stress is not an option. Self-care meant tackling my responsibilities.
As I love to do, I made a list. No need to put it in order, performative planning is just procrastination. Picked up orange roses from Trader Joe’s to refresh my altar. Grabbed the birthday card I should have mailed to my best friend two weeks ago. The rose’s thorns put up a fight, an unpleasant surprise but beauty requires protection. Spoke honestly and openly at my altar. The only way for change to occur is to lay out exactly what I want without compromise.
My body feels heavy and sluggish, probably a cortisol spike. Sluggish must go, we’re still in competition season. “Athena’s Playbook” from Darebee is back in play, it’s served me well in the past. Dragged my mat downstairs, put on my inside shoes, turned on ‘Sinners’ (2025) and completed day one. Showed my pole room some love after neglecting her. A few rounds of the castaway, focusing on making a circle with my legs.
Made time for wash day and laundry. Put on my big girl pants and reconciled finances. Switched the kitchen calendar to September and filled in every detail. Holding everything in my mind is an ego-trick. Let it live elsewhere, help me help myself. Free up space for ideas to flow. The tasks aren’t going anywhere; I’m the only person responsible for me. You might think that ticking off a to-do list is the opposite of rest. Not always, sometimes the “doing” starts to release the stress.
Letting off some of the steam, keeping commitments to myself, and starting again pushes the burnout further down the road. It might still come but I’ll be in a better place to give my mind, body, and spirit what they need. I’ll stretch this fuel for as long as I can.
Sundays Are Made for Self-Care
