Relearning how to walk/work? What’s the difference really?
Last night, I forced myself to go to bed early. After a long week of piercing headaches, lazying around, getting tired of lazying around, having wild dreams and giving up on my wild dreams, I thought it would make sense to start with one little thing, one little thing to get me feeling human again.
My messed up sleep schedule was the Joker to my Batman, the triple chocolate milkshake to my lactose intolerance, that one Nigerian man who spends hours screaming “Beyonce is overrated!” on twitter to my Beyhive membership, so with utmost clarity and tunnel vision, I knew I had to kill it.
This involved setting the mood. I believe we are all aware of my unfortunate location situation, so unless I wanted to descend further into the 7 circles of Dante’s inferno, sweet smelling candles that matched soft music were not an option. Setting the mood was turning on my AC, locking my door, turning off the lights, killing my darlings (phones etc) and popping a sleeping pill.
I lay on my “should really have been a water bed” mattress and found the least uncomfortable angle for my neck on my “clearly was meant to be outside with the other rocks” pillow and I waited.
Gravity wrestled with my eyelids, and after deciding that the pillow was indeed going to go outside with the rest of the rocks, I settled into a comfortable ‘C’ and allowed myself to be led away by my store-bought fatigue.
I died for exactly 11 hours.
And resurrected bright and early at 10am this morning, which, honestly, was a great start. Okay early birds, choke on your worms, nobody cares. This, to me, was fantastic news.
Currently, I have to physically go into work in the midst of all this and I’m not going to lie, it‘s proving a little bit difficult. Sorting out my sleep schedule was the least of my worries, I’m having to relearn how to think, how to hold myself when I run out of people juice and communicating just gets too much for me, how to drink more than two glasses of water a day (two and a half if I did more than walk to the kitchen and back). I have to take myself back to life before a non-living thing – a twisted piece of cosmic machinery – managed the portal between life and death, which by the way is hilariously ironic.
I remember what it felt like to be healthy, a state where doing felt as natural as breathing and I’m giving myself a month for this “back to the past” me to become my new normal.
I’m pretty excited!
Watch them fully lock down my city and all my excitement fall to shit. Just watch them do it.
For the next few weeks I will be posting a series of shorts on my Medium, not behind the paywall, about everything and nothing.
They’re not particularly informative, happy or inspiring pieces. They are simply an invitation to feel without judgement or guilt exactly how you feel this period. No forced optimism or shallow faith. Confront your fear, sit with it, give it a hug and hold its hands.
They are a gentle nudge to live despite it.
Enjoy, if that’s your kind of thing.
