I asked my body, no, pleaded with my body, to just hang on until I got back from England. It was so sweet, obliging my batterings on its sweet frame. Oh, the miles, the heavy luggage, the many stairs, the pushes, the masses of humanity when Victoria Circle closed down for maintenance. But my sweet body forged on, unrelenting, toward the finish line. Push push, for almost a month, starting before Florida, even, with everything pushing in on me. Home for a week, then off to London for 10 days. Home for a week, then BAM (and I do mean BAM), it hits me right in the head. Literally. I can’t breathe, I can’t sniff, I can’t smell, I can’t see straight, I can’t even think. This is the worst head cold I’ve ever had. Oddly enough, the rest of me feels really great (except for my knees - they’re still kind of blown out after those last batches of steps carrying 100 pounds of luggage). I even had monumental nightmares last night, screaming, “DAD! DAD!” so that Steve woke, startled, and looked down on me (thank god he didn’t put his hands around my neck like he did the LAST time I had a nightmare - not a smart idea, as I attempted to karate chop him away from me). Probably because I couldn’t breathe, or something. I don’t know. I got a little scared tonight when I really couldn’t breathe. Mags reminded me that I asked my body to hold on until I got back from London, so it did. But now it’s letting go, and I should’ve known that when it lets go after holding it together for so long, it’s going to let go BIG TIME.
Do I worry? Do I run around? No - I sit here, curled up in my Goddess sweatshirt, taking two or three hot showers a day, drinking straight ginger shots like they’re going out of style (Steve: “What IS that smell? Oh - ginger shots again?” He’s such a sport). How long will it take? As long as it takes. Will I take any meds? Probably not, although I’m not so adamant about going the non-prescription route as I was - the last few months have softened me a little (that’s a good thing). Life isn’t so black and white anymore - wiggle room is good, as well. What will I do? Let everything slide that can conceivably slide, not return phone calls for a while, lay low, move slow - that’s my motto. And it’s good. It’s SO all good, as I take the time to process the last month or so. I’ve changed yet again, as we all do, and I’m in this new place. It’s sparkly and bright, and although I’m alone once more, it’s not lonely - I feel warm and safe and very very powerful. How did I get here? I have no idea. Something happened in London to help me grow up - put on my big girl panties and deal with some stuff, for sure. Something definitely happened at Stonehenge and Avebury. I’m sure that will all take some time to process. But for the most part I’m just noticing that my head feels like one of those stress dolls that you squeeze and the eyes pop out. But I know it will pass, and in the meantime, I’m speaking soft, kind, gentle words to my body, telling it it’s a good body, a strong body, a sweet body. I’m also apologizing a little bit - I ran it pretty hard. It’s good, but it’s not impervious to constant stresses. Sorry, Body - I’ll do everything to make it up to you. What would you like right now? Some warm tea? Okay - your wish is my command. Because when we take good care of our bodies, we’re always ahead in the game. Always.