Lately the boy has had to travel for work, leaving me to my own devices.
For a girl who’s pretty self-contained, good at keeping herself entertained and has lots of solitary pursuits, I’m discovering I’m not quite as good at being on my own as I used to be.
I’ve been having random conversations with myself which clearly demonstrate I’ve got a ways to go yet in my trek towards healthy self-care.
Take for instance, the silliness that occurs when the thought of food arises. I’m hungry, but it seems like too much effort to make a proper meal for just one person. I’m hungry, but the idea of eating alone depresses me. I’m hungry, but…
You get the picture. Somewhere along the line I got it into my head that cooking for one isn’t worth the effort.
So I made myself a deal. Even if it was the most boring meal ever, I would make the effort to make it something special. That’s a ‘no’ to sitting on the couch and eating while watching TV (making it not only boring but mindless), and ‘yes’ to setting the table, putting on some music and enjoying what I’m having instead of just trying to get through it.
It’s working. I won’t say I’ve been doing it every day, but on the days that I do it, it’s been good. And yes, the extra washing up has been worth it.