Posted by: rebeccajrobare | August 8, 2011


I hate being sick.

Everyone hates being sick, I suppose, but I have a particular passion about it. Being sick in bed reminds me of when the migraines were so bad I couldn’t hold down a job, and every time I get sick, part of me believes that it will be long-term again.

I was sick last week with some sort of respiratory infection, sick enough to see a doctor, sick enough that she put me on antibiotics.  I’m feeling much better now, but dismissing my fears isn’t so easy. The specter of sick still haunts me. Maybe it always will. Maybe I’ll always be afraid that every day’s illness, momentary weakness, or lapse of energy is a sign that I’m becoming sick or depressed again, that I’ve accidentally eaten some gluten, that I’m being punished for not taking better care of myself.

And to some extent, this is a fear I have to live with. I can’t let it keep me from eating out, or seeing my friends, or doing things sometimes that aren’t the best health decisions.  But I also have to make the effort to take good care of myself – to eat well, to exercise, to meditate.  And I hope that all these things will help me build up some resiliency, so that the next time I’m sick, I’ll know it’s temporary.


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