Be Gone Foul Bug(s)

I’m writing this on a sunny but freezing cold Tuesday. I should be at work, but instead I am sat in a local cafe. I’ve just stuffed my face with scrambled eggs on toast and downed a cappuccino. Elliott is at nursery. I’m not skiving. Although I feel like I am. I am taking some time for me. Some long overdue time for me.

For the past few months (FOUR – not that I’m counting) I have been well for the odd day here and there. It started out with a stinking cold and a nasty cough whilst we were on holiday in Devon, soon followed tonsillitis… Hand, Foot & Mouth… conjunctivitis, flu. You name it I’ve had it.

For the past four months I’ve been in a constant cycle of contracting a bug, feeling awful, trying to battle on, starting to feel a little better, getting other associated ladies issues that happen when you’re run down, contracting another bug, trying to battle on… You get the idea…

I know things could be worse. I could be properly poorly. I could have something terminal or nasty and I should be grateful that I don’t. Maybe I shouldn’t moan. However, feeling consistently poop for four months kind of makes you grumpy and so I feel as though I am entitled toΒ a good moan. At one point I actually thought about stomping into the doctors and demanding anti-biotics or anti-depressants such was my dissatisfaction at being ill a-fucking-gain!

Things came to a head on Sunday when we attempted a family trip to our local shopping centre. I dosed myself up on Cold and Flu tablets and cough mixture before we left, but still I struggled around the shops. I kept coughing. I kept sniffing. My nose streamed every time I bent forward (which with a toddler is often). I didn’t have the energy to try anything on. I was miserable. I was in a mood. I had to get out of there and get back home. I burst out crying and we headed home. I spent the majority of that afternoon asleep on the sofa feeling like a crap mum and a crap excuse of a human being. Extreme? Maybe, but four months of feeling crook can do that to a girl.

I’m trying to do everything I can to feel better. I’ve lost a lot of weight since being ill, so I’m trying to eat more (hence the scrambled eggs on toast), I’m taking Echinacea, a high dose of Vitamin C and pro-biotics. I’ve recently started on the Manuka honey too. I’m getting lots of sleep, fresh air. Not so much on the exercise front but that’s because I can’t stop coughing!

Then it dawned on me. When was the last time I took some time out for me. More than just a couple of hours (and a couple of hours where I invariably wind up doing housework)? Erm, probably June 2015 before Elliott made an appearance. There I was on maternity leave bored out of my mind but too big and bulbous to actually do anything. I remember people telling me to make the most of that time. I remember being glued to the sofa with a sleepy newborn and people telling me to enjoy that time. Now I understand. Having a toddler and being back at work and trying to juggle life is manic! And that’s why I requested leave, not just from work today, but also from life. I just need to be carefree me for a day and see if that helps…

My cappuccino cup is looking decidedly empty so I’m off to buy myself some flowers, head home and curl up with a cup of tea and the Kardashian’s for company.

When was the last time you took some time for you?

 

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