A sickness break from blogging, with no particular end in sight. After foolishly raving about all sorts of positive things, and how good my exercise habits were, etc. I've been sent crashing back to reality with a cold/flu/virus which has kept me from any real work or walking for the past 8 days. I'm supposed to somehow survive a 3 day training course starting tomorrow at 9, when I actually feel worse than I did last Monday, my first sick day since I started on my wonder pills. Since I can't use caffeine, and cold/flu medicine seems entirely ineffective, I remain doubtful of being an enthusiastic participant.
So, as is usual for me when I get sick again, after a whole 3 months of comparative health, I lose my confidence that this kind of chronic illness crap will ever end, that my life is going anywhere, that I know what the hell I want to be doing, blah-de-blah-blah. Some of my pessimism surfaces from a lack of activity, and the distancing effect that being confined to bed has, but the fact that negativity sits so close to the surface just makes me think I'm usually just fooling myself that I'm cheerful, and as soon as I get fatigued and have no energy for self-deception the truth comes out.
And that's why: (1) I call this the World Wide Whinge, and (2) why I shouldn't post when I'm feeling sorry for myself. Nothing is ever as bad as I make it sound (quite how useful a talent that is, I don't know) and I'm sure that once I can do more than move from bed to lounge and back without needing a nap I'll be my faux-positive self again. Hoor-koff-koff-ay!
The things floating by aren't what we want to see
3 months ago