Part of the reason I cancelled all my meetings this week is that on Saturday I did not feel at all well. Or, to be more precise, I felt like someone had come and sucked all the blood and marrow out of my bones and all I could do was collapse in a corner like a bundle of sticks.
But I couldn't tell anyone that.
Why? Because I am so fuh-reak-ing (emphasis on the FREAK part) analytical and, wait for it, so "self-aware" that I intuited that my exhaustion was emotional and therefore contemptible. I mean really-- had I not just spent a week at the lake with my family in some modicum of a holiday? And sure, I knew in my heart that it really wasn't much of a holiday at all what with me working and my sister-in-law being a total pill (see how I slid that in there and no one will ever see it) and it raining hard for four days straight-- but the truth was, I felt like it should have been a holiday and my weak state on Sunday was simply a matter of unexpressed anger or annoyance or disappointment or something like that.
Despite the fact that I kept dialing out from 0 to 60-- one minute I'm walking the dogs, frolicking in the pond-- feeling fine-- the next minute I am on all fours crawling to bed and unconscious before I hit the pillow-- at 1:30 in the middle of the afternoon!--- I kept trying to analyze what this is about.
Am I depressed, I wonder. Is it stress? Anxiety?
Honest to god, it wasn't until I was on the phone with Peg this afternoon and waffling about a commitment to work this Sunday when I finally let it slip out that I wasn't feeling so hot. Kind of a weird thing-- just up and down-- can't eat anything but toast, desperate need to sleep every two hours or so. I was so embarrassed to admit this as I hadn't yet diagnosed it-- was it depression? anxiety? stress? When Peg said, "oh Elizabeth, it sounds like what I had a couple of weeks ago."
And I remembered seeing Peg after she had had this weird virus for about 10 days and she looked like HELL and I sent her home and she was all like, "but I'm so much better than I was." And I was all like, "you look like death on a stick, go home now."
She reeled off the symptoms and it was exactly what I have been feeling for the past four days. This weird energy sap with a bit of stomach ache and headache as a side dish.
And you know what? I felt immediately BETTER. I felt so much relief. I'm sick. I have a virus. I'm not a bad person with an emotional disorder--- ha ha ha ha HA.
I'm sorry, but I am laughing my ass off over here on the other side of the computer.
Could anyone be more weird? Okay, except for Henry, of course.
So I got myself some diet pepsi which I am drinking on the rocks to try and move that little bugger out of my system and I just made linguini and loaded it with fresh garlic I had bought at the farmer's market on Saturday-- and ate it with a toasted slice of ciabatta slathered in more melted butter and garlic.
Garlic to clean out my blood-- get that damn virus gone. But man oh man-- it never occurred to me-- NEVER, not once, occurred to me that I could actually be sick.
Hilarious-- but also? Kinda sad.