As I write this I’m sick. Well, recovering from sick. This seasonal head cold of mine has brought up tucked away memories.
As a child, I loved it when I was sick. Every winter I came ill with a bad bout of pneumonia and would stay in the hospital. My parents didn’t argue. The nurses were nice. The hospital felt peaceful. Best of all was that I was truly helpless, in a way that nobody could ignore. A sort of vulnerability that couldn’t be looked over. Not by myself or my caregivers. When school got too boring, I came down with illness. It was the same when bullying got too much to handle. It was easier to isolate myself away from the world under the guise of illness. It was the only acceptable state of vulnerability. It’s only recently have I been able to tie in emotional discomfort with physical illness.
This time as I’m sick I realize that it also comes at a time where I’m starting to learn a lot of new things. I’m entering a great new chapter of my life—am I really sick? Or am I uncomfortable? Maybe it’s just easier to hide under warm blankets & watch cartoons than face the big bad world.
I took time to rest this weekend. When I felt well enough, I decided to keep progressing in the projects I’m working on. Rested again.
Life is about balance after all.