i'm blogging from bed with a cold/flu. terrible timing and all, since inception, it's only gotten worse. it started while grocery shopping. i was losing it, overwhelmed. i wanted to make soup but i was already hungry. i wanted a cupcake, but it was 10am. i cried on the way home about the largeness of wedding planning. my body was cinching my capacity for dailyness way in. since then i've managed to accomplish a few things in the haze, things i can hide inside my computer while doing. my attitude about being sick has never been healthy. i tend to push myself, or question the validity of my symptoms, usually finding myself shattered, in a rugged and avoidable collection of ailments.
actually, i'm categorically awful at being sick. i tried to exercise twice yesterday and it took me at least the whole morning to admit to myself that i wasn't going to be able to do any good work until today, maybe. i hadn't planned on this, so it doesn't fit into my schedule.
but mostly, i've been split by the part of me that needs a respite and the part of me that naturally goes full steam. and already, the cherry blossoms have been winking at me. they bloom two weeks each year, and i have loved them always. i hate to miss a moment of their breezy shine. it's desperate and irrational. their uneven loveliness lining the streets, anywhere, as though it is now spring, just because they've arrived. those twisted branches: dark, knotty, and then that full pink reaching into the sun. they've always had my heart. i keep thinking the word: glorious. i want a better one. they are goddess like and hopeful, they are complicated, elusive, and slightly untrustworthy. they make everything an atrium, blushing, magical, and bright.
i am off the charts, emotionally. always grateful, but one minute defeated by what i cannot control (a fruitless effort) and another filled with certainty for what is here now and what lies ahead. meanwhile the word perspective and i are in a very fiery relationship. it's reactive, immediate, and pretty passionate. i always thought of myself as an optimistic, upbeat, and dust yourself off and go, type of person. as i hold more, i have sensed a paradigm shift with my attitude. it's heavier and thicker and i have a harder time freeing myself from my brand new go-to negative view.
it's an act of mindfulness for me to undo. a rewriting of each story that burdens my usual enthusiasm or fearlessness with the anchors of "what if," "i can't," or, "this or that won't work." i am in the salt mines with my own panorama right now, building alternate pathways to my own beliefs. as i write this from bed on a beautiful morning, not sure if my hip is healed, how sick i am, or if my heart broke a little along the way, i am changing my story, rewriting, revisioning, and shifting perspective every moment i can wrangle myself around. i am a writer because i will always try to.