I've noticed something about women, specifically mothers, that disturbs me.
I read it in blogs, I see it in my own mother and friends, and in myself.
Why is it when we're sick, or exhausted, or going on a two day migraine, we tend to push ourselves more?
Like, why would we possibly think, "I have a migraine, I need to go to water aerobics, and then go to Zumba, and then walk to Paris,"?
Why do we wash the walls and scrub the pot when we're running a 101 fever?
Why do we haul the laundry downstairs two days after surgery or giving birth?
What is wrong with us?
Brett asked me tonight as we left the gym, "Why do you push yourself so hard when you're not feeling well?"
The only thing I can think of is the sheer terror of what will happen if we do stop. I'm pretty sure the Earth would stop spinning and fly off it's axis. Have you ever taken a sick day, only to find the house exploded and you get to clean it up the next day? Or walked out of the bathroom after a vomit-marathon of three hours to find your children naked and starving?
In my mind, I really think, "If I lay down and rest, I'll feel more sick. I'll notice my headache more. I'll worry too much about the house falling apart and the kids killing themselves."
Is there no cure for this sick, twisted disease?
Where's the rub?
I don't know the answer to this one, Sisters. But I'm going to try and discover it at the bottom of double chocolate fudge ice cream. I think I'm on to something, here. I'll let you know what I find.