A Half-Full Glass of Airborne

I’m sick. I get to write this laying in bed, drinking tea, and watching old seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD. Regardless of this relaxing scenario, I’m torn on the whole sick issue. Feeling ill is one of the worst experiences ever. You aren’t yourself and nothing that you want to do can happen. I would rather be clear headed and focused on my homework. I would rather be running around eating fun and exciting breakfasts at my local greasy spoon or drinking my sugar free hazelnut soy extra-hot latte from the ‘Bux. However, my body has taken a leave of absence and requires that I lay around like deadly sin number 4.

So I ride the emotional roller coaster of illness; feeling momentarily joyous that I have an excuse to lay around and watch Buffy save the world over and over (sue me, she’s a kick ass role model) and experiment with my newest concoction of green pomegranate and raspberry sangria tea, and then facing the harsh reality that I have three classes worth of homework to do, some boning up on my new job training, food to buy for the week, music to study for my voice lesson, and, oh yeah, a blog post to write.

The thing is, that is the great part about being sick too. Not only do I get to lay around with Netflix and take baths with fru-fru bath products to make me feel better, I also get to delay the work that I need to do- guaranteeing that when I am back to my chipper, high-strung self I will have a load of things to manage and set straight.

To the causal observer, this might seem insane, and I concur that yes, there is a touch of mental instability inherent in my desire to fall behind. However, I 1) love a challenge and 2) know that one of my exit ramps on the way to depressionville is not having enough to do. I struggled for quite a long time when my own personal crisis came, with clinical depression, the likes of which had never before reared its ugly, fanged head. I know that, much like other recovery stories, that a relapse can only be avoided if I know what to look for.

So I do stuff now. It certainly wasn’t an overnight “gee, I’ll get a new hobby and everything will be fine” kind of thing, but gradually I was able to add more and more things (back) into my life. I’ve always been an introspective person, but knowing how to combat your inner demons (maybe I have been watching too much Buffy) is a big freakin’ deal. Not to say that “stay busy” is the most original concept nor that you can’t find such a nugget of insight in every pamphlet about depression in every psychologist’s office ever, but it takes on life when you realize that the hard times are lesser because you have things to do.

So my body and I have struck a deal. It stays healthy until the weeks of work, finals, concerts, etc. are over. Then, when I have some time to breathe, it picks up the closest virus it can find, lays me out for a few days, and then the fun begins all over. That way, I get a chance to lay around, doing the loafing things that I love without worrying that it will lead me into a downward spiral of dark and stupid. So back I go to hot beverages, the Whedonverse, and lying about…because I will have to get to that pile of homework tomorrow.