a ferociously crippling cold

a ferociously crippling cold

Over the last week or two, I’ve learned that it’s possible for all creative output to suddenly stop. I’ve written zero words. Made zero notes. I even broke my nearly-100-day streak in Day One.

When I caught my youngest son’s cold, it seemed like it would just be one of those things that lasts a few days and then tapers off.

In the end, I’ve still got it and I’m typing this while laying in bed because I’m still not as well as I want to be.

The most frustrating thing about this whole ordeal is that, once upon a time, I would still be working at full speed because I worked for an American company with miserly, typically-American sick day allowances. I had to be in work and I had to be hitting the same numbers as when I was well.

It’s frustrating because I am now incapable of continuing like that. My work is no longer physical, it’s mental/spiritual and yet, because my body is weak right now, I don’t have the ability to do it. I’ve had to attend church virtually for two weeks. I’ve had to miss two discussion groups that I am meant to be running.

Something I’ve had to learn, I suppose everyone has had to learn, is that I do not have the capacity that I think I have. The working patterns that I’m trying desperately to undo are unsustainable and are probably why I’ve had such a hard time fighting this illness.