the waiting game. the dullest game.

I'm frustrated, I hate being sick, and as one who has spent a good percentage of their life being sick.  I can tell you on no undercertain terms that 'it sucks'  in a big way.

Everything takes so much longer when we don't feel well.  The simplest things that take a matter of moments when we are running on full power.  Suddenly overwhelm.  

Everything seems too much.  Everything crowds in.  Everything remains. Everything waits. Everything is there.  Everything makes me tired.  Everything takes energy.  Energy that for me doesn't exist at the moment.

Words swirl in my head, needing to find a place on paper.  Light dances beyond the window.  Rain falls. Sunbeams stretch.  Stars twinkle.  A new moon lights up in the sky.  Buds are forming.  Spring is coming.

I dream of the photographs that I would like to take.  Plans poke at my mind.  I read information from other blogs, and sources that tell me what I should be doing, how I could improve my work.  

I want to get stuck into these ideas.  I feel frustrated like I have failed because nothing is happening. Let alone happening on time. The deadlines I set myself loom in the near distance, and I wonder if I will meet them.

My mind is in overdrive so I pick up pencils and pads, I write.  When I have the energy I type, I try to stay connected even a little because being sick is islolating.  It's lonely.  

I miss my life.  

I miss my life - I long for it to return.  Please come back to me.  Soon.

All I can do is wait.   Be thankful for the medicines that I have.  Be thankful for the doctors who take me seriously.  Thankful for their advice, which is to wait.  Not to push myself, but to wait.

Wait for health to return.  Wait for energy to come back.  Wait. Wait for life to start again.

Waiting, the dullest game.  Waiting the hardest thing.  Waiting, please end.

While we wait, here's a shot of Roxy that I snapped in the kitchen today.

That's it for now ...

Nics

Salt and Sparkle = Life Remarkable

morning

My body is tired, it fights for breath.  I wake, reaching for the orange inhaler, that will ease the burning in my chest.  Two maybe three puffs, and I sink back into the pillows.  Breath comes easier now, not as jarred.  What time is it?  I reach for my phone, and bleary eyed try to focus on the small screen.  10.30am, I haven't overslept that much, but I am still tired. Yet not sleepy.  

Shafts of sunlight peer through my curtains.  Bright light, that makes me want to get up and run.  But not yet, I am still ill.

My morning pattern is disrupted.  My brain feels heavy, my mind anything but mindful. 

And, I am not happy.  

I know illness cannot be overcome without rest.  In the jumble that has become my morning,  nothing is quite what it seems or what I feel it should be.  Yet, I have to come to a place of acceptance, that without rest, I will not get better. 

I long to return to the time of up, and out on the road.  My breath hard and sharp again, but this time, because I am pushing, I am striding out.  Several miles later, I return.  I am free.  I am ready for interaction.  I can face my day.

In my head I am running.  

In the dawn's early light, when the only other souls up are farmer's or doctors returning bleary eyed from nightshifts.  My feet beat a rhytmn, my mind feels free, I am connected.  I am within nature.  A big sky stretches to the hills, clouds rest on her.

Several weeks now, without a run.  Several weeks of weak breath, and tiredness.  Of continual meds and higher doese.  Several weeks of weakness.  Several weeks please end today.

I slump back against the pillows, and dream for my morning's, my running, my freedom -  to return to me.

Soon.

What are you up to this morning?

I've hooked up with the write practice this morning, pondering on their prompt morning, I'd love to know what morning means to you?

That's it for now ...

Nics

Salt and Sparkle = Life Remarkable