There’s a thread of mental illness running through my mother’s side of the family. When I was a child and would cry uncontrollably my dad would shush me gently and tell me that it wasn’t healthy to allow my emotions to run loose. “Just look at so and so,” he’d say. And I’d think about so and so and stop. Although my mother’s side is brilliant, and my father’s side more practical and hardworking, they are also very emotional. I wanted to be safe. I wanted to be practical and hard working. I had seen mental illness and it wasn’t pretty.
Well, today I cried and cried all day, and at a certain point wondered if maybe I was finally losing my mind. My head was exploding. My throat hurt. Even the skin on my face felt raw. I could barely open my mouth to speak. So I went in to see the doctor. I was relieved to find out it is only an ear infection. A really bad one, which I’m sure isn’t helped by the fact that I have a horrible habit of cleaning out my ears with cotton swabs. Obsessively. I have a thing with the spotless cleanliness of body parts. Which is something else my dad used to worry about me when I was young: my need to always wash my hands and make sure all facial orifices were free of gunk.
Actually, there was a guy once when I was in high school that I liked a lot. I was beside myself when he finally asked me on a date. While standing in line waiting for him to buy the movie tickets, I noticed there was something glistening in his nose. For the entire duration of the movie I was terrified that his mucus would drip on me; I couldn’t wait for the night to end.
Anyway, Victoria from #mce_temp_url# tagged me in a note, wanting to find out more things about me, probably thinking that there might be something cool. (Sorry to disappoint you Victoria, but there isn’t. And I’m so stuffed with antibiotics and pain killers that even if I had something interesting to say, it would not come out right.) Victoria, however, is super cool and sophisticated and next to her I feel like a bumbling idiot. Stop by and tell her hello for me.
Thanks in advance for your well wishes. They mean the world to me. I will be back on Sunday with an Easter story. Until then, be well!
Apparently I work too many hours, have horrible eating habits (too much chocolate, coffee and pastries), and sleep too little. For the second time, in as many weeks, I am sick again. I’ve had the flu shot and the H1N1 shot, to no avail. I have no idea what exactly is the matter, as I dread going in to see the doctor just to be told to go home and rest. But my right ear hurts so, I feel like cutting it off, and I who have never smoked, have a smoker’s raspy voice.
It’s been sunny, yet very cold. At night the wind scratches at the windows and sends the kids to our bed, where they snuggle in wide eyed, clutching at the covers and twining their legs with ours. And although I am sick and should know better, I love the warmth of their little bodies and let them stay, only to awaken hours later my limbs all numb, hubby gone down the hallway to sleep in the empty room.
My hours awake are spent in bed, looking through my journal for favorite recipes,
pasting cutouts of images from my favorite magazines,
opening my mail (yay, Christmas presents have arrived!),
Finally, I will be enjoying a bowl of this delicious stew prepared by my darling hubby, with a chunk of crunchy French bread, at the kitchen table surrounded by the dear faces of my family. I adore the primitive taste of bone marrow. There’s something so satisfying in it’s goodness.
And then off to bed for sleep and another day of the same, until I feel better. Stay safe and healthy!
We’ve been quarantined in the house since about Thursday, each of us in various stages of this head cold/flu thing. It’s a good thing the house is large and there are plenty of rooms to run through and hide in for the kids. Hubby, who’s finally gotten better has been on endless missions to get cupcakes and milk, chocolates and fresh fruit.
With the exception of going to a reading given by Nicholas Kristof on Friday evening, I’ve stayed in. That was an amazing experience, yet sadly I was too drugged up on Sudafed to carry an intelligent conversation with anyone, or remember much of what was said by others. His book, Half the Sky, that he has co-authored with his wife, is an astounding read into the plight of women worldwide. You can read about it on my friend’s blog:#mce_temp_url#. Ligia, herself, is dedicated in bringing awareness and empowerment not just to the women of her native Costa Rica, but also to all she comes in contact with on her many travels and speeches in South America, North America, and Europe.
But back to me. The only thing I’ve accomplished other than lounging around and moving from the bed to the family room couch, book in hand, was eating exorbitant amounts of sugary foods. For the moment at least, I like to pretend the scale does not exist. I try to avoid the bathroom it resides in for fear of it gravitationally pulling me toward it, and then having no other choice, climbing on it and watching the dreaded digital numbers go higher than they’ve been in a very long while.
After everyone’s asleep, I plan to go and clean out the fridge and the pantry. No more overindulgent wallowing. Tomorrow is back to eating right, exercising, and homeschooling… even if we don’t leave the house for more than a short walk in the woods.