Yes, I'm back after a few days of being sick. I'm still tired as all get out, but at least I've got coffee.
A flare-up of my rheumatoid arthritis made my hands so swollen I couldn't type, draw or paint. The medicine I take for RA saps my strength and makes me just want to curl up and sleep. That doesn't do wonders for the productivity factor. My brain tries to push my body into doing something, anything, but my joints inform me, "I'm not going to cooperate. Go to bed. Thank you."
Frustrations abound, big time. Even now, I get impatient at my body's limitations. "Okay, now that you've had your little R&R, I've got to play catch-up." And the Muse shoots back with, "There really isn't any good time to have a breakdown. I don't care if you're Human or a car. Live with it."
Live with it. Writing, at least, is flexible enough that I can do it anywhere, even when I'm stuck in bed. Even if I scratch out a few words, it's better than not having written at all. A little writing goes a long way, and my mind says, "At least I'm getting something done and it doesn't matter if it looks like chicken scratch. I'm a linguist, I can handle it." And when I'm better, I can transcribe it to the computer.
But still, I've never been one who did well just being sick. And it's true that if you don't give your body the rest it needs, it'll take that much longer to recover. It's like a chain of dominoes...when one falls, they all fall and you can't do anything to stop the process. When it's all over, you just pick 'em up and set them up again.
Isn't that how life goes anyway?
All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010