Okay, this is pretty miserable.
Went to my gorgeous niece’s birthday party this past weekend. Lucky us, it happened to be scheduled during a brief pause between when Jon was recovering from a nasty bug (it’s been going around his office) and when I was coming down with it.
But the “coming down with it” happened while we were prepping for the 5-hour drive back home. Ugh.
Let me say that 1) traveling while sick with norovirus is uncool (UNDERSTATEMENT) and 2) having a cold on top of it is just extra cruel. Last night with its combined “not only are you nauseated but you also can’t breathe through your nose” made for some unpleasant sleep.
And then I dreamed I was being framed for a horrible thing I didn’t do. Had to escape from Bosnia-Herzegovina on top of a train without being caught or electrocuted. (I’ve never been to any part of the Balkans; I don’t know why that came up. But apparently Bosnia-Herzegovina has lots of lovely waterfalls, so maybe I should go…?)
Enduring simultaneous multiple illnesses affecting the head and throat: do. not. recommend.
I feel like hell.
I swear, I think I have been bone-tired for 10 years.
Part of it is, of course, the 5 years of crazily bad health combined with “yes you STILL have mono” in the mid- to late aughts. Not good for a body to go through. But another part of it is emotional, because even when my body was (is?) a wreck, I was able to do a lot more than I do now.
It’s often frustrating – nay, almost infurating – when the articles and thinkpieces and memes on self-care and self-nurturance float through my screen. It’s frustrating because I’ve been struggling with how to refill my waaay depleted well of creative and emotional energy, and I swear I have tried everything that anyone has ever suggested that I had access to. More often than not they backfire on me. I’m left worse off: drained, or hurting, or feeling like something is sorely amiss, or at the worst…some memory resurrected in a really bad way. Even the ones that don’t backfire don’t do anything. Like, nothing.
It has gotten to the point where I really, truly believe there is the equivalent of sand in my mental and emotional gas tank. I don’t know what exactly the “sand” is, but dammit I am GOING to get to the bottom of this.
Uh. Pun not intended.
So I apologize for any weirdness. Chalk it up to the fact that my pistons are skipping.