In fact, when I get any kind of lurgy or cold, it goes straight to my throat or chest. So I’m aching all over, a little hot, but more often than not, cold, and my skin is sore to touch. My son is still recovering from bronchitis last week, so I know where I’ve caught it from.
It’s a pain because I had so much planned for this weekend -thesis writing and review, running, yoga, Pump, reading etc. And all I’ve really done is veg out on the lounge and watch the Olympics. And download podcasts.
So I feel like a sloth.
And I hate feeling like a sloth. Because -and get this- when i was a child, I was endlessly reminded by mother about how the two other little girls who lived in my cul-de-sac ‘ran rings round’ me when it came to domesticity or pretty much anything (except their schoolwork). I was told I was lazy. And I’ve spent the rest of my life proving that I’m not.
So taking time out to be sick and even to admit that I’m sick isn’t something I am comfortable with.
I guess this is exactly where I need to practice some ahimsa towards myself and allow myself time to be sick (and to get better).
But you know, it’s soooo hard.
I HATE being sick.
I am NOT sick.