[AE.Personal] When does getting better become being better?
Hey, all. This is a little personal update as I claw my way back from a bad cold.
I talked a bit in my last newsletter about the intersection of a chronic illness and a passing one. One of the things that's really fun about that isn't just how each one makes the other one worse, but it can be hard to tell where one begins and ends. So when people ask me if I'm "better", in reference to my respiratory infection... I'm not sure how to answer that.
For most people with most winter colds, I think they'd say they've recovered from or are over the cold at the point where the coughs and sniffles and sneezes have ended. The way my body works, I may still be recovering from the strain on my system after the offending virus has replicated its last gene sequence.
Each day since about last Wednesday, I have felt better overall than the day before it. In some cases this meant I had a good day all day. In some cases it meant I had a good day until a certain point and then my body basically hit a wall: no energy, no focus, pain or spontaneous cramps in my muscles, fog in my brain.
If that sounds alarming to you... it's pretty normal for me. That's what it feels like it if I overdo things on a good day or a bad day; bad days just have a lower ceiling.
I had hoped to be back in the saddle (by which I mean in my office, sitting in front of my personal computer, and working for most of the work day) by today so that I could finally ring in the start of the new year and get going on the plans that I had put off last week. And mostly... that has happened. I am well enough to be at my desk as I write this. But freezing rain all day Sunday shifted our usual grocery delivery day by one day, and that's taken up a good chunk of my time and attention and spoons for the day.
The number one thing that I had planned to do today was to make the first (and main) NiNoBilMa post of January. The "and main" in parentheses there is because I connect the enervation that either led to or exacerbated my illness to stress and overwork of taking on too much in December, so I'm going to be taking a more hands-off approach with how I do NiNo this month, closer to my original plan and less micro-managed. I made it into more of a thing because the early feedback was that the original version was too open-ended.
There's a part of me that feels awkward sending two "yeah, my body sucks, LOL" status updates with nothing but silence in between them, but one of my plans/resolutions for the new year was to stop letting a feeling of awkwardness prevent me from writing and sending a newsletter, as that's a potent source of writer's block, if not a form of it in and of itself. One thing I have noted regarding both my newsletter and Twitter threads is that even when I share an experience or feeling that I think is very particular to me, there are people who find it relatable and who thank me for being willing to talk about it in public.
This happens especially when it is something that I feel inhibited from sharing on a basis like awkwardness.
One of my first planned newsletters for the year, if I hadn't been knocked on my backside, would have been about this, and how the willingness to open up to a generalized public audience through the internet connects to the tradition of literary diarists. If me writing about a topic helps someone else to understand the life of another or helps someone who reads it to better understand something about themselves or to feel less alone, that's reason enough for me to write about it, and as I have never yet found a topic that doesn't resonate with someone, I will do my level best to refrain from screening potential topics on the basis of anything as inconsequential as awkwardness.
In summary:
Barring further acts of immune system, NiNoBilMa for January will go out tomorrow or Wednesday, as I'm still playing catch up. Sorry!
I'll be experimenting with more frequent newsletters on more wide-ranging personal topics.
Please continue staying as warm and safe as you are able to.
-Alexandra