I’m sick. The two weeks of no sleep, of trying to hold it together but failing miserably, of not taking care of my body, have caught up to me. I’m pretty sure I have the flu (the cough, sore body, headache, cold type flu, not the puking flu), plus a sinus infection. It’s awful. I’m downing meds, and sleeping nonstop.
On Wednesday, I felt more tired and run down than normal. I drank extra coffee, and told myself to suck it up. On Thursday morning, I woke up stuffy, and tired, feeling sore and weak, but I blamed it on my fibro and allergies. By late Thursday afternoon, I had no choice but to admit I was sick. I crawled into bed, and had Kat join me with snacks and her iPad with headphones. I set her up with a show and bribed her with gummies. I felt awful, yesterday I hadn’t had much energy to play, and now today I had none. I texted hubby, and he managed to leave work early and get home by 5:30. It’s a perk of his new position at work that he can set his hours, work around things I need from him. Aside from meetings and trainings he has to attend, his schedule is pretty flexible. It’s great. And, the stress of his old job and the insane hours are gone.
So, it’s late Friday afternoon, and I’m still sick. I hate being sick. There’s something about being sick, especially this time, that has knocked all my defenses out, so on top of being sick, I’m having a lot of trouble emotionally. I feel like everything is a trigger, and while I’m so tired I am sleeping way more, it means more nightmares. Between the stuffed up nose, pressure from my sinuses, and sore throat, it’s hard to breathe. And that sets off triggers of the boyfriend. And the phlegmy snot in the back of my throat makes me gag. I’ve thrown up from it twice today. It reminds me of things in my mouth, stuff in my mouth that I was told to swallow. Ugh. My stomach is churning just writing that.
My body being being sore like this triggers memories of the boyfriend, too. He liked to be rough with me. It made him happy. And then there’s the physical memories of soreness down there. I thought maybe those were done, but with my defenses down, those memories are back too. So I’ve spent some of my day crying over the pain and horror. Of course, as I cried about it all, I wanted to call, or text, or even email Bea. I wanted her to tell me it was okay, that I was okay. That this will end. I didn’t reach out to her, for fear of being too needy.
I wonder if getting sick was the way for me to avoid going to my parents. I’m really very conflicted about going, about wanting to go. So maybe sickness overtook me in my rundown state so I could avoid time spent with them. I don’t know. A part of me wishes we had gone anyway, and I could be there with my mom taking care of me. She’s a good care taker when people are sick. I have hubby taking care of me today, which mostly meant he got Kat out of the house.
He’ll snuggle me and be there for me after she goes to bed. That much I know. I could choose to open up to him. To tell him being sick triggers all kinds of horrific memories. I’m not sure I can do that though. I need to think about it.