Fighting the Lurgy

 I am fighting off the dreadful cold that almost everyone else I know (in Alice Springs) has had this winter. When I say ‘cold’ it’s not actually a headcold. I don’t have a fugged-up nose.


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.



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