The morning after… I’m alive

Well as you can tell from my last desperately named post it was a terrible night last night; my muscles and joints are so painful and I think I went to sleep about 3am in the end.  Ouch.

The mancub was awake about 7am.

Luckily the hubbo let me go back to bed and I managed to rest up and sleep for another few hours, And I have been painkiller free since 3pm yesterday.  My tummy has settled, the nausea has eased and apart from making noises reminiscent of drum ‘n’ bass fingers crossed its on the mend.

I’m dehydrated to shit and feeling rough but rest seems to be doing the job – I can function and I’m awake and not overcome with pain, moving around makes it come on a little but I’m thinking that by having a rest day it may give my body a chance to recuperate and is what it needs.

So i’m being kind to myself.  But it’s hard, so hard.

I want to do my chores, run around the park with my mancub, study, and so much more – I’m always on the go normally but I’m starting to realise that I have to accept that when whatever this illness is flares up I have to take things a little easier and it’s ok to do that.

My stupid head tries telling me that I’m fat and lazy and obesity is my only illness but deep down I know it’s not that.  Yes, being overweight is putting more strain on my body but it’s not the root cause.

In an attempt to be kind to myself I’m not going out, I’m going to take it easy and hopefully feel better.  As we speak my parents are ill and unable to have my small one tomorrow so I’m not sure if I will be going to work, but I’m trying not to stress, I’m going to read, sleep, watch movies and relax.

Saying that I’ve just got up to go and empty the washing machine.  Must try harder…


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