Pity party.
Because I don’t want to give up just yet.
I had a kind of bad day.
Side note: This piece is literally me saying I had a bad day and I’m sick and I feel like shit. My friend Simmi has the best word for it — “kakkabums”. I’m just feeling kakkabums. I’d write about anything else but my brain is fried and my body hurts and my sole intention is just to not break my 100 day writing challenge. This is post 21. I made the article exactly 500 words. Basically I ‘m saying don’t bother reading this one.
After a few glasses of wine last night, my now surprisingly-aged body decided to punish me with a day where I just felt rotten. The weather got all weird and it hailed for a while. I couldn’t get started. I moped around the apartment in my pjs listening to moody alt-pop from my teen years. I have had a persistent cough for more than two weeks now that is driving me insane. No amount of coughing can ease the persistent tickle in my throat. But I cannot override the instinct to cough, to free my throat from telling my brain I can’t breath.
I’ve lost my appetite which leads to making poor food decision which then means my energy levels are all over the place.
I can’t focus. The world feels over-whelming and impenetrable. I escape into Netflix binges. I eventually got out the house for a coffee with a someone who maybe can help me with this soul-crushing job search.
To be fair, it was a lovely coffee, followed by a great event with crazy-intelligent people. But this cough meant basically trying to fight the urge to cough during presentations, which led my eyes watering as my whole throat burnt.
I had to stand up and leave the room and try rush to the bathroom to have a coughing fit. I coughed so hard I threw up the cranberry juice I had been nursing. Delightful.
I am deathly allergic to “networking” — but I know a good opportunity when I have one and I pulled finger, put a smile on my face and collected cards and promised to write emails.
And now I’m sitting on the bus, and I realized that I haven’t done my writing today. I have nothing to say except today was a bit shit but it was basically my own fault for not looking after myself.
My head is throbbing with every cough that doesn’t relieve this tickle. I can’t draw one whole breath.
But the kind of annoying, but liberating, aspect of being a bit older, and a bit wiser, is that I just have to get over it and try again tomorrow.
And if I did one right thing today at least I did my writing. Even if it’s basically just a pity-party in prose.
Until tomorrow
X
