slowing down

knock on wood, but i don't get sick often. and when i do, i'm the worst.

i've been in bed the last two days, battling a fever, body aches, sneezes, and a wretched cough that would signal you to run in the opposite direction. i'm sick, i know it. but i have the hardest time succumbing to the general malaise and fatigue. i don't want to be cooped up inside all day. given a choice between sleeping and going out for a run, i prefer the latter. any sane person knows that sick equates to rest, but because i am hardly ever in this condition, it takes a while for me to understand. (and i'm a freakin' nurse, for goodness sakes)!!

so this is my mental monologue, my streaming line of consciousness.

i, in fact, know very well how to take time to step away and rest. a massage, a leisurely walk, a cup of tea and treat. i treasure those times. however, they are on my conditions, when i am ready. and that's where i find that i am having a hard time recovering from this illness. i did not prepare for being sick, feeling deplete, or sleeping hours on end. this time was not accounted for in my work week, written down strategically in my moleskin. time is flying by, checklists need to be crossed off, and i am here, curled up in bed feeling sorry for myself.

however.

i read this excerpt from kinfolk recently, and it absolutely resonated with me:

"winter offers us a reprieve from summer's outdoor happy hours and the autumn weekends away; a season-sanctioned rest period. it turns us in - indoors, inward, intimate - and in these ways, causes us to shift form. like the leaves and long evenings, certain qualities of ours seem to fade and make way for a new identity."  --annu subramanian

like winter, this illness is a season. it's an inherent cue for us to respect ourselves enough to slow down. rest. heal. to allow nature to run its course, and in so doing, come out better than before. and that's what i want to do: follow the commands of my body and be better for it.