I've missed about six days of work in the last two weeks with a cold. The first three I was out, it had settled into my head in a constant sinus headache that I thought was just a combination of hangover and smoke sensitivity from the Chicago trip. Then I took that letterpress class over the weekend, where I was on my feet for two solid days and the next week I was out for three more days of work and my usual three days off, too, with a genuine NyQuil-cold. I'm still not feeling so swell today, which is my sixth sick-day (say that fast five times!) in a row this week.
Truthfully, I sort of expected this to happen. Although I was fine while I was in Michigan after Dad died—apart from finding being in that house alone creepy—the day after I got back to New York, I woke up with a vicious flare-up of the costochondritis I haven't had in almost two years. And, weirdly, both my hands started to ache from the wrists down as though I had rheumatoid arthritis (which does run in my family). I'm also having all sorts of weird skin issues: acne, itchy dry patches around my eyes, sensitive scalp. Whatever I'm not feeling emotionally is coming out as physical symptoms which also include fatigue. The fatigue isn't the kind that would suddenly appear when I had to do something emotional (which I'd experienced before during therapy) as an avoidance mechanism, it's just as a bone-deep exhaustion, the kind you get after crying for hours. Even though I've been sleeping pretty solidly and well (lately with some very odd and somewhat disturbing dreams thrown in), I'm just tired, and I seem to need more sleep than I have in a while.
So, foolishly, instead of taking it easy and lying low until I start to feel better, I've been running around with my friends and doing stuff I've put off because I've never had the money to do it. Part of this has been holding off being alone, which seems to make me antsy right now. Part of it has been that my friends are so diligent about paying attention to me and asking me out that I hate to say no—sort of killing me with kindness (one of the drawbacks, if you will, of having lots of friends). Part of it is just wanting to get back to normal.
I think I need to just accept that things aren't normal yet, and that it's going to be a while before they are. And that means I have to take care of myself. It's actually been kind of a relief to just stay home and wallow in bed for a while, even if I have been sick as a dog. As I've said elsewhere, one of the pleasures of being sick is lying in bed and reading and thinking, and I still haven't done much of that during the past week. But I've gotten used to being alone again, and don't seem to mind it as much as I did. So one of the things I think I need to do more of is say "no" to my friends' kind offers of company and activities. I need to just chill out and think and process for a while.
The other thing I haven't been doing much of since Mom died—and the year before, while I was getting settled here—is cook for myself. I haven't been eating takeout instead, at least, but I haven't been eating all that well either, just grabbing easy stuff out of the fridge instead of making a big pot of good stuff on the weekends and eating that during the week when I get home. Again, part of that has been lack of desire to cook in the heat, and up in Michigan, a lack of good ingredients and working in someone else's kitchen. But it's also been just plain apathy, too.
I finally made myself some Chinese cinnamon-barley soup this weekend, when I felt well enough to go get some groceries, and that's a start. It's from a great cookbook, A Spoonful of Ginger, which treats food as medicine. I'd been cooking at lot from it back in Brooklyn, but not so much here. After not having any of these for a long time, it really tasted great last night. I'm looking forward to making Tuscan Pork Chops from my New Basics Cookbook at Jen's next week, too. But I understand why people bring food to people after funerals. It's a caretaking gesture, and one that grieving people sometimes really need. Now I have a whole new raft of cookbooks, and the weather's getting cooler, so I'm going to start cooking for myself again.
And in the spirit of taking care of myself, I'm loading up with vitamin C, drinking a lot of water and juice and tea, firing up the humidifier with my special essential oils respiratory mix (eucalyptus, cedar wood, peppermint, and clary sage), popping three capsules of glucosamine chondroitin a day, and going back to bed!
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