Maybe it’s the fact that I’m poorly, but I’ve been reluctant to blog as I didn’t know what to write about. I’m reading a book by Danny Wallace, which is essentially his columns for a magazine and it’s brought something to my attention again – that I need to have more of a “point” to my blog posts. So here’s the point of this blog: I need to learn to be more accepting of the times that I am unwell.
The problem is that in the last month, I’ve felt pretty grotty to be honest. Under the weather, don’t know whether I am coming or going, stressed, too much to do, under the weather. Discussions with friends have been interesting – where is the line where you admit defeat and that you actually need to take to your bed? There’s no option to stay in the house around little people and husbands and loaf about, because you get drawn into stuff, so it’s bed or carry on as normal in my experience. On Friday, when I could barely get out of bed, let alone get to a presentation, I realised I’d hit my point of needing to take to my bed. But being in Glasgow, with a presentation to do, it wasn’t an option. But by 8pm, I was home, the boys were at Nanna and Grandad’s for an impromtu sleepover and I was in bed post bath by 10.30pm. I felt bad, because I’d not seen them for 24 hours. But at the same time, they were happy – I dispensed the lego star wars and they were happy to stay there, so I made the most of it. I don’t know if I am hallucinating though, as I think there was a phone call at one point to ask me about tips for Legoland Windsor visiting – they told people they’d been when they haven’t!!!
But right now, I’m not feeling any better. And it’s Sunday, nearly 5pm. I’ve been out of bed for an hour now, and just want to go back to it. I think I qualify for it – I’ve got yellow gunk coming from my ears, nose and throat. Nice? I know, you should be here for it and am sweating like I’m having what my mum calls “tropical moments” ad infinitum. I expected to be right for my working week tomorrow, but maybe I’m not going to be. And that freaks me out. I’ve got to learn that I need to look after myself better, so I am not vulnerable to this. But having said that, I’ve not missed a day of work in over 12 months, so it’s not like I’m a slacker. So why do I feel like one?
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