Sick Times Equate To Sick Thoughts

I have been in sick jail this week. It's been the kind of sick that sucks your creative juices dry.  The kind of sick that requires an IV of NyQuill to your veins.  The throat dry and rattling kind; the chilling body aches kind; the walking around bent over with a robe that whips around your bare ankles like you are forever going to be hunchbacked from this point forward kind.  The kind of sick that makes you start to question all of your life choices from the moment of your conception; it may even bleed over to questioning some of your parents' choices like why did they want to have you in the first place.

When this type of sick takes over your world everything pauses and then proceeds to continue in a very Matrix quality slow motion as you reevaluate most things in that smoky haze of wakefulness and drug induced sleep.  What if this is what my life has made itself into being now? I began to wonder.  I looked at my animals, all cozily taking claim to their chosen real estate on my lap, my arm, two inches from my head (my black cat never one for overt neediness).  Is this what they feel like when they are sick? I asked myself. I have read that dogs, when not feeling well, truly believe that they will never feel better again.  They grow accustomed to the feelings of pain, of sluggishness, of disjointed displeasure and they adapt the best that they can and perhaps that is why they look so terribly pitiful with their wide sad eyes and dopey faced frowns.

My husband would say I become one of those forlorn dogs when sickness comes my way.  I cease to want to adult altogether, reverting to the childlike version of myself.  He is correct of course for I really do become quite helpless.  I haven't always been this way, however.  During my first marriage and when I was single I was quite capable of taking care of myself, although he would be the first to disagree.  My first marriage I fractured my femur in both legs twice and when I was single I lived in a townhome that had fleas in the basement and I had attracted the unwanted attention of a stalker who was leaving me creepy notes on my front door, so maybe I wasn’t taking that good care of myself after all.  Fast forward to the now when all I have to do is stay in bed when I’m sick and he takes care of pretty much everything else.  He makes sure I take the appropriate amount of medicine at the appropriate amounts of time even when I turn into a churlish child and throw a mini tantrum at the thought of having to down the bitterly thick red liquid and the exessively large pills that will forever get stuck between my throat and esophagus.  (I don’t really think that’s a thing, but it does feel that way.)

Maybe the real issue is that I was just not made to suffer like most, one reason I will never be child laboring, preferring to be catered to rather than the catering sort.  Should I be embarrassed by such an omission? Perhaps.  And honestly I do feel bad in the moment, but isn’t it nice sometimes to just give into what your body wants, what your body needs without feeling a certain type of way about it.  So many times I have all of these rules in places that surround my daily life (i.e. no drinking alcohol Monday through Thursday, only diet coke on Saturdays, 60 minutes of cardio six days a week,  heavy weight training four days a week, hot yoga on Sundays, chocolate only on the weekends, writing the first draft of my blog on Wednesday, working on my book five days a week), that getting sick is a way for my body, my brain to reset and just be in the moment for awhile.   It’s quite refreshing in a way to live a few days without all of those rules that forever imprison my brain into the confines of what feels like four very sharp corners.  And maybe that’s why we get these viruses to begin with.  It’s a way for our brain to signal to the rest of our body that we need a break from life, even if it only means for a few days.

I’m recovering now, so no need to be too worried about my overall health.  And I’m actually getting better before the voices in my head began to spiral too far down the rabbit hole of thinking I may have a far worse disease, potentially cancer, because isn’t that where all things lead to these days?  My brain has reset as well and my rules have been put on pause, not indefinitely, but until a new week shakes its bright glorious head in my direction.  But for now I’m going to relax, revel in the clarity that this break has afforded me, and be thankful for a body that is healthy the majority of the time.