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Ain’t No Prize for Wearing Yourself Out

I have a sick little fantasy. 

At some point I will be sitting in a celebrity-filled auditorium when my name is called out as the year’s winner of the “Most Sacrificing Woman” award.  I will swish up to the stage in my designer dress that the critics will agree diminishes the dark circles under my eyes and the bulging veins on my neck and the cortisole induced paunch in my middle.  I will take the stage and describe that my years of “taking one for the team” was worth it. That habitually putting myself last has finally brought me the only reward that I ever really wanted . . . the undying appreciation of every person, child, partner, committee, board, client, pet, family member, non-profit and needy person that I valued more than myself.  Yes, seeing the happy faces of friends and strangers alike who received my selfless efforts was all I needed to buoy me through life.   I will take my applause for ignoring my health, my happiness, my bank account, my spiritual growth and my personal desires.  The award will no doubt will be a golden sculpture of a woman flung over a chaise lounge known as “MOM” which stands for Most Overworked Martyr, a befitting prize for someone like me, I should think.

But alas, there is no such award.  There is no “Saying-Yes-When-I-Know-Damn-Well-I-Should-Say-No” Award.  Or what about the “I-Can-Sleep-When-I’m-Dead” statue or the new emerging prize,  “I’ve-Mastered-Social-Media-at-the-Expense-of-My-Social-Life”.

So what are we doing running ourselves into the ground?   Do we think there is a race going on?  Most likely we do.  We’re buying what the times are selling . . . that s/he who finishes first, wins. 

Do you ever ask yourself the question “Finishes what, exactly?”  or   “Wins what . . . a stomach ulcer?”

So for today, let’s stop this nonsense and slow down and smell the roses.

For today,  cut some corners, say no to someone who needs something from you, buy a pre-cooked mean, skip reading Facebook, eat some potato chips and don’t feel bad about it.  It’s won’t kill you . . . I promise you.  Let’s all get this in our head . . . there is no grand award ceremony where you will be honored for all the ways that you took a lickin and kept on ticking.  The prize is now so slow down enough to enjoy it.

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