To be honest, there are aspects of being sick that I do relish, aside from when I had HFMD, of course. (Let it be known until my dying day in ~90 years that I relished less than none of that experience.)
I savor the slowness of being sick, how exertion inches its way to a crawl and then a stop, because without a phlegmy cough, fatigue, and a lot of snot, I'd otherwise not know how to really rest.
Obligations fall a distant second to whatever the body asks for, which is probably how it should be, if one is to last ~90 more years.
The disruption of disease, though inconvenient, provides a pause to reassess priorities of the present moment. Plans for the future ask first, and perhaps only, for our patience. Blessings are laid bare, no longer in disguise.
But I'm most sheepish to admit that one of the things I like about being sick is the victimhood. As one whose profession is to care for others, being sick provides the opportunity to paw at attention and gather up the comfort of being cared for. To, in essence, collect $200 and pass go, for as long as I can milk it or as long as my voice sounds as it does.
It's a fleeting indulgence, the succor of being sick.
Acknowledging this about myself without judgment allows for a better understanding of my need for support and attention, and to find healthier ways to fulfill those needs without relying on illness, whether physical or otherwise.
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1 Mantra:
May I make each sneeze a celebration, and each cough a prayer, and may I not give more than what I have, as I can't fill up another's cup (better yet, my own) from an empty one.
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1 Journal Prompt:
What do I truly gain from playing the role of the victim in challenging situations?
1 Art Prompt:
How can I visually represent the hidden benefits I receive from playing the victim?
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1 Book: - The Body Keeps The Score by Bessel van der Kolk
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- As always, with love and thanks,
Brookie
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