It has been 2 whole weeks since my last post. In fact, this is the longest I have gone without posting since beginning this blog. And for that, I feel like crap. I really do.
The fact is, I have been in a completely miserable and pathetic excuse for a human being since I got sick. The scary part of Pneumonia was short lived, thanks to my Dr. and the amazing pills she prescribed. But it's been quite some time since I have been able to NOT hack out a lung while inhaling the cold winter air of this climate.
I have not been able to attend yoga class. Sniffles aside, I actually feel well enough now, but reaching a yogic state while enduring the dirty looks of paranoid germaphobes in their Lululemon pants does not appeal to me. I have only once joined my BFF Bodhi for a beer at our favorite spot. I have (though gratefully) had an ass-load of work that has rendered me and my immune system exhausted. Oh, and just when I thought I might actually try to hike this fluid out of my lungs, winter finally fucking decided to show up and covered all my favorite trails with two feet of snow.
Needless to say, I have been unable to do the things I love most. The things that make me...me. The one thing in my life that I have been able to stay somewhat consistent with is The Writer. Aw... Go ahead and vomit. He continues to show himself to be a very generous and kind man who just wants to see me smile and for that, I feel blessed. However, I only said somewhat consistent. In that I have been a royal bitch and pain in his ass. I was all whiny, mopey, and demanding while I was sick. In turn, he was forgiving and even told me it was "kinda cute". Now that I'm not bedridden, I am restless. Yet, snowstorms, sniffles and lung snot are beyond his control so he does his best by watching movies with me and calling AAA when my car gets stuck on the ice outside his apartment.
Through my struggles with the past demons, I readily recognize this pattern. When I am stripped of my personal pleasures, I tend to sabotage the only thing going right for me. Whether that be a relationship, my work, or something else entirely. In reality, I know I am just pissed off at the lack of my pleasurable activities. A lack that leaves me less able to cope with other imperfect yet unimportant-ly imperfect things in life. Without my anchors, something as uncontrollable as a snowstorm will toss me into a fit. I am to the point that if I do not get to yoga class or finish a hike with a hoppy fermented beverage, I may be writing this blog from a padded room. I suppose I just feel a little down that I started this year with such high ambitions, vowing to not repeat old negative habits from my 20's, such as hating life below 40 degrees. And here I am. Cold, Vitamin D deficient, tired, and grumpy.
Just wanted to check in. Perhaps the doom and gloom tone of this post will motivate me to come back at ya with something good.
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