I’m trying to hang on to ideas when everything around me seems to be falling apart in an melodramatic, operatic way. Before I start complaining I should preemptively acknowledge my position in the world. It’s unfair to an absurd degree. It’s embarrassing that one of my primary concerns is being intellectually stimulated. Oh, and a need for variety. I think my awareness of this is fairly high. But whether that makes my complaining any more dignified is up for debate. I’d venture a guess that it doesn’t.
This is one of those times when little things seem to be piling up and are unusually dense. The same amount I could pick up with ease two weeks ago is pinning me to the floor. Last week I believe I had a flu or a sinus infection or something similar. I slept almost the entire day, two days in a row. Felt miserable any time I breathed. Sore throats make life almost literally unbearable. Existing, without any additional movement or thought, is a pain in the ass. It hurts. Throats are often ignored, except in certain movies, but they are sure as hell important and often used in our daily lives. Have a sip of water or a bite of food without one. Think about how frequently we swallow to rid of that excess saliva. A constant source of annoyance.
Then, I started feeling better and proceeded to do my knee in. It’s gone. Going on four full days laid up in bed with only small excursions outside. Have to limp to get food or water or go to the bathroom, which makes all three seem nonessential. Showers are also an unneeded excess, and consist of me standing under the water and lamely washing all the parts of my body I can reach without bending my left knee. Unless I want to navigate my way to the floor to wash my legs in the sitting position. Sort of like the old sit and reach from middle school PE.
But, hey, guess I can take comfort in the fact that I’m still sick. Which drains me even faster than being in pain alone would.
I can’t imagine what being sick feels like to an infant. It’s this insane, invisible pain. Muscles ache. Your body feels out of your control. You can still feel the dull aches from everywhere, arms, neck, head, legs, throat, back, shoulders, but everything is delayed and heavy. Burdens put on you by something outside yourself. Betrayed by what you thought belonged to you. A transplant that hasn’t quite taken. A baby barely has control over his or her body and it’s already fighting them.
There’s not much going on right now, and that’s the source of my disintegration. Any small thing I want to do, work, play, read, sing, etc. all hurt. I can’t get outside because I’m tired from feeling ill and in pain from the knee. Even the most innocuous hold up is a major event right now. Getting dressed requires effort and it’s effort I don’t have in reserve at the moment. An incremental deviation from the norm right now is massive when it’s put on top of a huge pile of frustration.
It’s just that sometimes reading and thinking about child labor, studying philosophy, thinking about morality, origins, how to live, and the brain doesn’t satisfy a basic and simple desire to take a walk.