Well, I feel completely wiped out. I finally caught the gastric flu that's been going around. I have spent the last two days desperately trying to keep food in my system and to stop shivering non-stop. Poor Jake didn't even get a walk yesterday. I will attempt one today though my tummy is still feeling a bit iffy.
Part of the problem with being ill, I find, is that the world goes on even though you don't want to. Children still need to be fed and taken to school. Bathrooms still need cleaning and -- in our case -- carefully disinfecting because the daughter of a friend stayed at our house last night. Dogs need walking, though Jake was pretty good about not going out yesterday. I was going to ask my daughter to take him, but then she got the bug too. My son got home too late from cross-country training to take him.
The other problem with being ill for me is that I have been awakened in the night by either violent shivering or bad stomach cramps. First I lie in bed wondering what medication to take, then I finally convince myself to get up and take it, then I go back to bed, feeling better but oh so wide awake.
And then to occupy myself I start to think of all my baggage. You know, all the relationships that aren't quite what I'd like them to be, all the snubs, all the friendships that have gone awry. And then I go straight back to sleep. NOT!
Last night I mentally composed a list of said baggage under the following categories: In-laws, Family, Friends, Acquaintances. This was joined by Fears and Worries. Then I asked myself why I was able to remember so many of these, but hardly any of the successes and joys in my life. Are they fewer and farther between? But does that not mean then that they count for more? Because if the measure of my life is the relationship shortcomings and fears and worries, then how do I manage to get out of bed every morning?
As I argued with myself, I found sleep finally coming on. And I had some very interesting dreams. In one I explained to a woman I no longer speak to (or rather she no longer speaks to me) why I decided that socializing with her and the rest of her crowd was not a good thing for me. And she seemed to understand. In another dream I flew to Canada on my own and found myself in the ski resort we've visited for the past five years. Without any Canadian money or way to contact my husband. I somehow got a car that I was trying to drive while in the back seat. When I realised this was a near-impossible task, I had to maneuver the car over to the side of the road, also not easy. I managed to get where I was going eventually and was greeted by my husband and children, a nice surprise since my husband has resolutely refused to go skiing with us for about the last eight years. I know there's loads of hidden meaning in this dream. Trying to drive while in the back seat and not getting anywhere. On my own with no resources. My husband unexpectedly showing up. I'll try to think about this next time I can't get to sleep.
There have been many times I've wished I was a different sort of a person, the sort who isn't bothered by people letting me down, the sort who plows gamely through life, celebrating each and every little nugget of sunshine. The sort my daughter actually is. How I envy her ability to shrug off the snubs and putdowns from people. How I envy her innate confidence. Although I come across to people as a confident person, it is a confidence that has been earned through age and experience.
My son, poor soul, is more like me. I went to his Parents Evening at school last week. The overriding theme of the evening was that he needs to work harder and pay more attention and be more vocal, except in Religious Studies, where he apparently is the life of the party. If he doesn't understand something, he needs to ask someone, preferably the teacher, to explain it further. One of my fears is that, having worked so hard to get him into this school, he will then flounder and sink to the bottom. So we (and I feel it is partly my responsibility) will double our efforts to improve his performance. It wasn't an all-round bad evening. He is doing surprisingly well in maths, which he always struggled with in primary school. He's quite strong in history and shows promise in English. Sciences are very weak at the moment, but then I always struggled in them also.
But here's the little nugget of sunshine: He came second in his cross-country race on Saturday. Each time he runs, he gets a better result. My husband was so overcome with pride when he called me (he goes to each and every race) he was practically in tears.
Enough about me. I am going to attempt a walk with Jakie (I'm tempted to bring poop bags for myself). Wish me luck!