It’s been a nearly a week since I fell ill. I don’t know why I’m blogging about it. I guess I need to mark my recovery.
I felt incredibly bad on Saturday. Sunday, by comparison, was a relief, but the coughing and sniffling and other symptoms were worse. Since then, I’ve slept alot, rested alot. However, getting that extra hour in bed every morning is a godsend I feel bad about. I do so little these days (writing, looking for work, and now working out) that all the time I’ve spent staring vacantly at the TV has made me double-down on existential worries to the point where they plague me more than ever — which I didn’t think possible.
I worry about my life, what I’m doing with it, where it’s going. Why I’m so lazy, why I can’t focus, why I can’t force myself to concentrate. I’m just a bag of Why-Didn’t-I’s.
By Wed, I probably could have taken myself back to the gym, but I didn’t. Today, the same. I thought about it, but worried I might erase all the gains I’d made in immunity these few days. Ahh, thinking and feeling. There is the thinking I-Should, but then the feeling But-What-If? Thinking and feeling are two different things, rarely do they ever meet up. There’ve been times when my body, mood and mind have given me the unequivocal sign to go full force: to thrash it in the gym, pulls ideas from the air or even become that once-in-a-blue-moon social animal. Every cell in my body rings with the truth. But not today, not yesterday and probably not tomorrow. It’s painful to be so uncertain all the time.
I guess that’s where risk comes in. One should grow a cool head over gambling and gamble often. And then a thick skin for the consequences. I’ve seen far too many instances where cool-headed and promising forays resulted in weird environments and tight corners. People are sometimes too insular to see that their actions and habits are dysfunctional and that they just don’t make a good “home” in their work abodes. Most every place I’ve left, I’m glad for it. I say it with certainty. With the exception of a few, they didn’t foster any sense of joy, belonging or worth. The “feel” of a place and it’s people have got to be good. The rest of it will follow.
So, anyway, it’s Thursday and I’m fretting. I haven’t resumed my usual routine, what little there is of it, I want to get back to it. I want to run. I want to work. I want to participate again.
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