Apologies (yet again) for this prolonged absence. This current flare up is a pretty bad one and it has taken me four days to summon the energy to get in the shower. But, I have finally cleaned myself (such a big girl!) and am right now sitting on my bed, wrapped in a towel, waiting for my hummus crusted chicken and roasted veggies to finish cooking. It’s really amazing how much of a difference just feeling clean can make, even when you know you still feel rubbish.
That’s kind of the theme of today’s blog post.
I’m currently back seeing my doctor and having more tests done to determine whether something nefarious is going on, or whether my body is just giving me a particularly bad time of it at the moment. It’s extremely frustrating, especially because I genuinely thought I was doing better and was well enough to return to work.
My body obviously needs more rest and more time. I’ve started tweaking my diet (again) a little bit, but this fatigue I have been feeling is all-encompassing, the brain fog pretty damn foggy, and I barely have the energy to do anything at the moment.
This has led me to return to doing what I do best – staying in bed, half watching at a series on Netflix. Unfortunately, this is the worst thing for my body. It’s such a catch 22.
I know that I need to try and get some exercise, move around and do other things. Allowing myself to physically and mentally decondition doesn’t help anything. So I try and go for very short walks and read even a couple of pages of a magazine every day.
Being stuck at home can be very depressing and isolating, and despite the fact that I often don’t feel like it, I drag myself out of bed every now and then to do something that, even though I know I’ll probably pay for it for about a week, will make me happy.
There’s something about doing my hair, putting on makeup and a nice outfit that just cheers me up. It’s refreshing to look in the mirror and not see someone who looks sick. It’s nice to feel like a normal person.
So yes, while physically going out “on the town’ may not be the best thing, sometimes you need to say screw it and just do something that makes you happy.
For example, last Friday I went out and felt like a normal person for the first time in absolutely ages. I went to Purl with my friend Freya. Purl is an underground speakeasy in Marylebone. They serve delicious cocktails, and play jazz music. Just sitting there, sipping on a drink, enjoying the music, the atmosphere and talking to my friend felt so…normal. It was great. Granted, we had a table booked for 6 o’clock, and when we emerged the sun was still shining. A brief walk in Regent’s Park, and the tube home meant that I was tucked up in bed before the sun had gone down.
Whether we’re ill or not, we often spend so much time obsessing over what we put in our mouth and the activities that we choose to do that we forget that life is for living. We’re supposed to be happy. Of course, we need to be sensible and not spend all our time doing things that may have a negative impact on us, but I’ll choose a couple of hours a week of doing what I want to do, no matter what, over miserably sitting up in bed wishing I could go out and have fun with my friends any day. Looking after my mind, realising I can go out and have fun, even if it’s for a small period of time (especially during a flare up), is just as important a part of healing as looking at my diet, my exercise and my rest.