Today I am not living. I am existing.

I have the flu ~ the proper, floor-me, dramatic, cancel-your-life kind. The kind where time loses meaning, your bones ache for no clear reason and your body feels personally offended by air.

My bed has become my entire personality.

I’ve reached that stage of illness where you’re too sick to do anything productive, but not sick enough to sleep peacefully ~ so you just lie there, staring at the ceiling, thinking wildly profound thoughts like “Have I always breathed this manually?” and “Is it normal for eyeballs to hurt?” …..

Food is confusing. I am hungry but everything sounds disgusting. Water is essential but tastes suspicious. Coffee is being consumed like medicine and faith combined.

I’ve cancelled all plans, all responsibilities and all expectations of myself. Even my phone feels heavy.

The world could be ending and I’d be like, “Yeah… nah…..can someone else handle that?”

There is also an emotional arc to having the flu. At first you’re brave. Then annoyed. Then slightly dramatic. Then deeply convinced this is how you go.

But somewhere between the sniffles and the shivers, there’s also this weird softness. A forced stillness. Permission to do absolutely nothing except heal. Just rest! Doctors orders (self-appointed)

So if you’re reading this while upright ~ please know I envy you. And if you’re also sick ~ solidarity, fellow blanket goblin.

I will return to the land of the living soon(ish).

Until then, I’ll be here…breathing manually…watching rubbish TV.…and negotiating with my immune system.

Love Rain

(typing this horizontally) xx