I called in sick (technically, I texted in sick, but so it goes). I did it because I needed it. I did it for myself. I did it because I needed to distance myself from everything that happened yesterday and because I barely slept a wink and was scared of driving and falling asleep at the wheel. I did it because I needed to take care of things that needed taking care of before they became worse. And I did it because I need to stop feeling guilty for needing to take time off. I have the privilege of actually getting paid sick leave, but I always feel such guilt for taking time off and letting my overworked coworkers down. It’s probably a remnant of the days when it was work or don’t get paid, but I also think it’s something that has been so ingrained in many of us–the idea that we have to take it for the team, keep plodding on or else–that taking time off, even when it’s allowed, seems a huge ordeal.
I drank some tea, rested, took care of those things I mentioned, and then had a long nap. I’m still tired, but I’ve managed to get some writing in. I took a walk to Starbucks and indulged in a latte and a good book. And now I’m here. Trying to find some peace.
marginalia and such 