Lauren B. Lentini

Part of me is disappointed with myself for not scheduling activities with friends for my free afternoon during our whirlwind trip to DC this weekend. On the other hand, I just woke up from a long nap in a luxurious king-sized bed, sent my husband and son to a bar to watch soccer, and realized that I have free time and I’m hundreds of miles away from my to-do list.

I’ve been feeling a little down, if I’m going to be honest. (It’s easy to say #nostigma when I’m feeling great, much harder when I’m struggling.) Jordan has been the best thing ever to happen to my mental health, and I’ve been enjoying the longest streak of calm seas in my adult life, but my two crappy roommates are back. I’m not talking about Jordan and Jerald.

I found them out early this time, and I’m attacking them head on, so I’m calling that progress. I’m admitting it to the world right now, which is a big change from doing everything in my power to hide. And since it’s June, and time to make another resolution, here it is: I’m going to do something every damn day to take care of myself.

Today I took a nap, and I’m not beating myself up for not Making The Most Of Every Minute. Tomorrow (back in CT) I’m going to try on clothes from the Stitch-Fix-esque box I ordered, not berate myself about how much better I’d look in them if I just lost the weight already, and give myself permission to buy something if I like it.

On Monday, I’ll go back to planning my food and bringing snacks to work. I had two successful rounds of 21DF before life started getting in the way and cheat days became cheat weeks, and I’m having my doubts about its efficacy. But I liked the feeling that came with eating my grapes and cottage cheese or hummus and veggies, much better than I like scavenging in the office kitchen for chips, cookies, and granola bars, deciding whether to maximize (fleeting) pleasure or minimize guilt.

This is not a diet post, though. This weekend is about friends, and pizza, and I think I heard something about margaritas. I plan to tell my mental roommates to shove it—with alcohol, if necessary, although I know that’s not an every-day strategy—and enjoy the rare opportunity to be around these people I enjoy.

If I missed out on seeing you because this hotel bed is so comfy and there’s an elephant sitting on my chest, comment and tell me how much fun we should have the next time I make the trek south.

If you have any suggestions for self-care June, for days when I don’t think I deserve it, comment away!

Because Facebook will want a photo, here’s Jordan taking his own DC nap.