The gentle rhythm of neurodivergent self-care.
A second night, and the twinge in my left side is back. Familiar now. Not dramatic, not alarming—just a quiet ache that reminds me I forgot the preventative paracetamol. Again.
It’s strange how the body keeps score, even when the mind is busy with liturgies, logistics, and late-night thoughts. I’d like to say I’ll remember tomorrow, but memory is a slippery thing, especially when neurodivergence dances with fatigue and the rhythm of dialysis days.
Still, I’m not cross with myself. Just noting it. Naming it. Honouring the small truth of this moment: that pain, when acknowledged, becomes less of a tyrant and more of a companion. A reminder to care, to pause, to listen.
And so, with two paracetamol and a whispered prayer, I choose kindness toward this body that carries me. Not perfect, not pain-free, but present. Tomorrow begins here.
God of aching bodies, grant me grace to rest, courage to care, and wisdom to soothe what hurts. Amen



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