Take it slow.

My dad will laugh when he sees this post. I have written about my experience growing up with a chronic illness on this blog before. I can’t remember if my dad started telling me to take it slow before or after my diagnosis. But it was a predictable part of every day growing up. Each time I left the house, each time I got in the car. Sticky notes left with this saying, phone calls to remind me, always take it slow.

We kidded about it growing up. I rolled my eyes. I underestimated the power of these three words. As an adult I feel differently. I know the power of slowing down. I recognize the power of these words in my personal and professional life. This week I was reminded of them.

I have been traveling a lot and when I returned home my body was run down. I was worn out. I was sick. I caught some bug on a flight or in an airport. My body gave up. I thought I was taking it slow. I thought I was listening to my body. I guess we can never take it slow enough.

So, now, here I am on Memorial Day weekend battling a sinus infection and trying to communicate with my 11 year old as my voice begins its retreat into silence.

We will be taking it slow this weekend. Movies, reading, board games. Snuggled up with cats and hot tea.

I may not have been taking it slow, but now my body is insisting I do just that.