Mondays Are Fine

Ph: @emrata

It’s Sunday night as I write this. Still bright, no longer foggy but still lingering is a palpable humidity in the air.

My belly is big, bloated—but for once in my life, I don’t mind. Instead I’m content from where I sit, even though my waistband feels tight. A thick, fluffy bathrobe hides everything, is everything. (Mine is from TJ Maxx, an impulse purchase from last winter. I’d suggest to never shop when you’re hungry or cold, but here I am with a robe whose cost per wear has defied need for calculation.) It’s comfort. Warmth. Home, literally.

Most of this weekend was spent recovering. Save the obligatory night out—a work function more than anything—I became the ultimate homebody. Turns out, your body can and will shut down when you’ve abused it with too much stress and too little sleep. Mine conveniently decided to on Friday morning when it chose to oversleep by three hours; I woke up to multiple texts and emails from coworkers asking where I was. Embarrassing, yes, but let my worst nightmare be a PSA to all the overworked, overtired women in the world. We can’t fight without taking care of ourselves first—especially when now more than ever, we need to muster every ounce of strength and energy to do more than just resist.

Sleep as much as you can; it’s more vital than you think. Reserve a few hours sans news—you need to live your own life, too. Practice self-care. Then use the rest of your waking hours to mobilize a resistance, to make a difference in the coming midterms, and to do all you possibly can to rise to the top in your field—so you wield the power in opening doors and affecting change.

It’s Monday. Bring it on.

.   .   .

xx