So I’m sick. And that sucks.
Let’s pause for this:
What I have is kind of like the flu “lite.” My whole body aches and going up the stairs kinda makes me feel like I ran a marathon. I finally gave up trying to “work from home” again (like I did on Monday and Tuesday…barely) and just took a sick day today.
Why am I sick? Is that even a question people ask? I used to get sick a lot, but in the last 2 years I have gotten sick far less frequently–I say from being in better shape and making better food choices. So I DO want to know what the hell is going on.
But when I tried to figure out what brought me down this time, I saw a general kind of decline since Saturday morning. I had pushed really hard at workouts for several days, but that’s not a unique circumstance for me. So I thought some more.
Frankly, I don’t think I’m eating enough. I don’t think I’m giving my body enough fuel to–in the words of my awesome trainer Karin–“support the amount of weight I throw around in the gym.” (word)
I also have consistently been told by docs that I have low red blood counts and should be on iron supplements. No matter how much red meat and dark leafy greens I have eaten, I can’t seem to make up for the deficiency. I need to find and STAY ON a quality iron supplement.
Continuing to work with my diet and get it right so my body can handle all I ask of it is a new goal for me. It’s a critical one, because I’m not making ANY progress towards my other goals while I’m sick.
So, I’m working hard to accept the reality that I am not an impervious superhero who never gets sick. (Good thing I don’t have unrealistic expectations for myself.)
But there’s another problem that comes with being sick, and all you moms will understand.
Right. It’s close to impossible to “rest” when you have kids running amok, with lunches to be made and science projects to do involving the creation of a cross section of the human eye out of household objects. And play rehearsal. And a band concert. And an eye doctor appointment that I couldn’t possibly put off because we had waited two months to be scheduled, and at which my 6 year old daughter screamed as though being murdered (just like every other time) while I pinned her to the chair and held her thrashing and screeching little self so they could put those infernal drops in her eyes. She could not be reasoned with. That shit is fight or flight for her, and holy crap does she fight.
So, yeah, I haven’t done much in the way of “resting,” and yet I haven’t really gotten much done. I look around my pigsty of a house and feel depressed at my lameness. At my inability to carry a load of laundry without gasping for breath afterward. At my reluctance to go pick the kids up at school right now–even though I miss them dearly–because I know it will exhaust me. At my conflict over whether I should go to dance crew rehearsal tonight–even just to watch–because I miss my awesome girls so much and would like to do SOMETHING that feels like my real life.
Because slobbing around in pajama pants, shivering under a big blanket and watching Secret Life of the American Teenager on Netflix is definitely NOT my real life.
I friggin hate being sick.
Whining Fat Girl, out.