I admit, I do love to wallow in some self-pity sometimes. It feels sooooooo good to feel sorry for myself. "Look at that miserable lump. See how worthless she is? Why, I'm surprised she can even wake up in the morning... She'll never amount to anything. Look how frail she is. What a waste of human life." Anything I've done before? Doesn't matter... That was luck. I've secretly been faking it this whole time and no one was the wiser. I never was an all-powerful wizard. I was just a gal in a funny hat. I'm going to sit and pout about how I never get anything that I really want and that's just proof how miserable I am. My life is hard because that's the best I deserve. I should be glad it's not worse now and when it does get worse, "Well... then you'll really know how awful you are." I cannot tell you how dangerous this type of thinking is.
I have two good options here. The first is pretty straightforward. If I'm being a lump because it's a bad health day, that's a free pass. And NO ONE, not even myself, gets to talk nasty to the sick person. There is no negotiating with a disease. (Melody Beattie, I believe.) And if there's no way to budge the disease, what use is harassing the person held captive by the disease? So option one: free pass.
Option two: do something, anything constructive. If it's not option one, it's a reasonable (I won't say good) health day. I tell the voice(s) to STFD, STFU; I'm not hearing it. I'm going to do something constructive and then they can eat crow. Really easy for option two? Take a shower. It doesn't matter if I have to sit in the tub to get clean. I will get clean. I will have done something productive, and something to take care of myself, in one event. One constructive event leads to another: clean hair means hair care. Means making myself look good in the mirror. Means brushing my teeth and putting on a little make-up, which can change sick-looking into sexy-dusky-eyes instantly. I have done something productive. I am not a lump. I am clean and look appropriate to leave the house. That's something.
The thing with the shower is I can go on auto-pilot. The water on my skin stimulates my nervous system, which is a physical difference to whatever was going on before. Then, I can't take a shower without washing my hair, because that just feels yucky and weird. Pretty soon, it's not so hard to be responsible and wash the rest of me (which also feels better than just getting soaked). Then I can relax a little while and be proud of those small steps. "I can handle this. It's okay. I can try a little more." And I just do little by little until I've finished the routine. When I come out sparkly clean on the other side, and I can see that in the mirror, I can actually hold my head up a little more.
I'll do one small constructive task, even if it's just put three dirty dishes in the dishwasher. I'll straighten up some small area. If I'm feeling really adventurous, I might even do a load of laundry. But that's a big commitment on days like these. If at all possible, I'll get out of the house to run an errand. That may seem like something really big, but getting out from the same four walls, doing something that I've done a thousand times like driving the car, that doesn't have to be so big. It's actually even better if I have to drive a far distance---more than 30 minutes each way. Then I can just have me and the road, the scenery, and upbeat music on the stereo for a while. No decisions. I'm just getting there.
I break things down to the next indicated step. I don't worry about anything but the step in front of me. Twenty minutes from now doesn't exist. What's right here? What's right now? I've arrived at my destination? Okay, which store was I coming here for? Go to that one. What was I here to get? Get it. Am I set to return home? Okay, get a bottle of water because you're thirsty, first. Now ready? Okay, go home, triumphant. Deed well done. Reward yourself with some Facebook games and then we'll see if we can't get more done later. But don't worry about that until later.
Then I check in with the previous nasty voices. Their mouths are too full of crow to bother me much more today.