The universe has added illness to my injury and a rotten cold has settled on me like a chill web. It’s the first time this year that I’ve been tempted to call in sick. I’m going to push through though because, on balance, it would be more difficult to deal with the fall out of missing the classes I have this week. I guess I’ll just take the hits in the evenings and weekend. That’s not ideal, but I guess being sick is not exactly ideal either.
I’ve spent the last couple of days feeling very sorry for myself to one degree or other and longing – nay, expecting – that I’ll get sympathy and be taken care of. Is this everyone? Do we have a default “I’m sick! It’s my turn to be minded!” setting? I’m lucky. I have a partner who does just that. Even when he has a huge amount of work on his plate, he doesn’t let me see any frustration or stress (well, not much … ) and I get to curl up under blankets and demand lemsip and sympathy. Even the tiny piles of 4 year old egos in the house are pretty sympathetic to me. And I really really appreciate it.
So I will be dragging a little through the day I guess, and it’s hard when things are set up like this. I had living in a passing time sort of a way. Can I find something joyful and life-y today? I mean, it will be an uber success to just get through the day and get the basics of my job done. I won’t expect myself to clean or pick up or do a whole load of extra schoolwork.
But what about everything I already have? What about everything that’s good in the day? Starting with the simplest thing – I’m alive, and so too are the precious loved ones around me. There’s a warm child leg resting against mine in this warm bed as I type. I have a job to go to, and I was just paid today. It’s truly Wintery and I like Winter. I know it’s dark, but I’ve often felt that lends an air of the mystic to Winter days. All the same the dark can drain my energy and mood and I have to take extra efforts to not get dragged into depression at this time of year. But away from the negativity we fly –
We are suddenly financially secure. I don’t mean for the rest of our lives or anything, but for the next year anyway. I’m no longer trapped in a cycle of self-medicating anxiety with alcohol, which then triggers even extra anxiety. I’m still a pretty anxious person, but I’m choosing not to point my focus on my worries right now –
My knee seems to be not so bad as I had initially feared and I expect to be back running by the weekend. I’m fitter than I’ve been in a really really long time, and while weight-loss seems to be stalled for the moment, my clothes are fitting me a lot better than they were even 6 months ago, and I no longer feel embarrassed to walk around in public in this physical container.
Hmm… maybe I should stop thinking of my body as a physical container, a shell, a meat suit and all the other dismissive terms that cerebral people tend to use for their bodies. As if we aren’t our bodies. I guess we like to think we aren’t. I know I like to think I amn’t. Coz I know my body is going to die. I know it’s fallible, I can feel it every day – how fragile and terminal it is to be housed in organic matter. Our bodies die, and I accept this, but I’m in complete denial about the notion that I will die. I guess that’s how I can manage to deal with being alive and having enough awareness to be conscious of the impending inevitability of death.
Terrifying. So much so that I don’t think I can think on it for too long without spiralling into some kind of crisis, and so the only reasonable solution is to stop thinking about it at all.
Well that exercise in positivity went to a dark place pretty quickly! I suppose I was trying to get to a place of yet more acceptance of my body, as more than a house, but as a true and natural part of me, as me in truth.
But how could anything so ridiculous be true?