Cold Feet

One of the special quirks of having cerebral palsy is that my hands and feet are just about always cold. It could be 85 and humid in the middle of July, but some days I still want socks.

As you can imagine, winter is not my favorite time of year. My feelings about this time of year are best summed up in this picture:

After an evening spent in the computer room, the coldest room in the house, I usually have ice cubes for toes. And a lot of the time I crawl in bed with socks on, burrowing under a huge pile of blankets in an attempt to rectify the problem.

It doesn't really work. I toss and turn for a large chunk of the night without seeing much improvement.

There is a way out of this cycle, though: Sometimes a good foot rub is just the thing to warm me up.

That takes time and patience, two things I don't usually have when I'm exhausted and ready to keel over. But if I make that little sacrifice of a few extra minutes, it's so worth it. I'm warm, happy and can actually get some decent sleep.

There's a lesson to be learned here. Often we try to force ourselves into difficult situations or out of our comfort zones in the name of "courage" or "maturity." That can be a great thing, done right. But if we rush it, well, we're not likely to get far. Even if we do reach our goal, it probably would have been a lot less trying if we just took it slow.

A lot of people stretch themselves too thin and push too hard. I know I'm certainly one of them. It's all too easy to take care of everyone and everything around us while never leaving time to care for our own needs, which are just as important.

Interestingly, it's when I make the effort to take good care of myself — physically, mentally and spiritually — that I feel my best.

It's amazing what a little TLC can do.