I haven’t been sick in two years. Seriously. Two fricking years. I think I had one sinus infection since 2019. And that is a miracle since I usually get at least four of those a year - every change of season.
I think it had to come because I was beginning to believe I was impervious to illness. When you survive the pandemic in good health, and without other issue, it gives rise in someone like me this grandosity that I am bigger and better than I am...so this cold has been humbling on a variety of levels.
I am not a good rester. Not a good patient. Not good at being down. It depresses me. So I have weathered this cold with my usual delusion that it is just allergies...alas, no, it is a fucking cold.
I am sure it would be over by now if I would have stayed home, rested, slept and stayed in bed...but that is not my way. I have to pretend that I feel better than I do and show up for work (well I worked from home...but worked more than I would have had I gone into the office). I do not know how to do it differently and apparently a two year reprieve on illness did nothing to change my usual manner of dealing with illness...ignore and pretend it isn’t happening.
I did go to bed Sunday night at 4:38...and I am not joking. I didn’t fall asleep until at least 6 though.
Which finally brings me to my intended topic of self care. I have done my best to rest and relax and take care of myself but it is still very hard for me, even when I feel crappy. I just seem to have this internal motor that kicks into a higher gear when I feel less than stellar. Like something propels me forward when what I should be doing is stopping all together.
I am working on this but I am still me. Still a pusher and driver and not a giver upper. I just do not do still well even when my body (most specifically my nose) tells me to cut the crap and sit the fuck down. I am still stubborn and somewhat maniacal in my refusal to lay down, shut off or stop. I really do have the thought, “I will rest when I am dead.”
I guess the growth is that I didn’t feel prideful about my inability to stop and rest. I didn’t boast or expect others to praise my ridiculous efforts to push forward. I was, instead, able to see that I am still a work in progress and most specifically need work in the whole care taking of self department.
So as much ground as I have gained, I am still fucked up. I still don’t relax or sit or be still well even when motivated by a pervasive feeling of ick. And it is mostly because I hate feeling shitty, emotionally, physically, spiritually. I hate the feeling so I avoid it! Which doesn’t mean that I don’t still have the feeling, like being sick, doesn’t go away just because I refuse to admit how shitty I actually feel. I just walk through life again with the feeling that is incongruent to my behavior.
So I guess my cold humbling is that I am still doing the same shit that I always do, feeling one way and walking around acting like I feel differently...still.
Dammit.
