Confessions of an ill person

This latest thing on my mind is my ill health.. And it was just a subtle thought to umm… maybe, write a blog?

My bed is my palace

Until I got sick, I never realized that a bed could serve so many functions. Firstly, it makes a great office. There’s plenty of space to spread out newspapers and notes, and a laptop fits nicely on my reclined body. I’m writing this piece from my bed. And, in all of my time in the workforce, I was never able to create such a comfortable space, complete with personally arranged pillows.
My bed is also a very comfortable play-space… I can become a kid and pamper myself with all the gooshy pillows and mattress.
Of course, what better way to eat than on the bed?
Office and playground and eatery. What else could a person ask for?

I worry that I’m no longer competent out in the world

When I’m sick, I’m reluctant to open up with even my own family members, let alone outsiders. My body parts seem to be so brittle that I could assume hearing a crack with just a turn on my bed. I feel so incomplete, so washed out, so worn out and defective that I could even compare myself to an old engine left at the yard, hiding away from passengers. I feel incompetent just putting this in writing.

I’m sometimes grateful to be able to use illness as an excuse for not going shopping or to an event

Most of the time, I’m sad that I can’t go out on my own. But certain outdoor activities like shopping or interaction events put me off. (I hate shopping, do not judge >_> )
So next? Sickness to the rescue! *heroic music*
I’d rather prefer getting comfy in my bed cribbing over my illness, than listening to a storekeeper brag about quality products in his store or my mother asking me for suggestions on the colour of a handbag.

Who doesn’t love being pampered?

That extra care from loved ones, the concern .. doesn’t it feel a little more nice?

When I’m on my own, my eating habits are fit only for my cat to see

Yaaaaaaaarr this one is killer. When I’m alone and ill, I often cross my record of carelessness. As it is, I am not a foodaholic, and belong to the ‘I eat to live’ school. My OCD rules over me, and when I know I do not have the strength to clean the dishes or keep utensils at their place, I choose to just avoid using them in the first place. Just how my cat would curl up around the food bowl and eat its fill and then sit there or lie down like a queen, so do I.

Since the past few months, I have been feeling more weak. I often considered whether there’d been any specific changes in my life that might have triggered this downward spiral, or was it just the stage that every young adult goes through. Then I realized that I’d simply stopped taking good care of myself. I was overextending myself in every way: giving some people too much of me, pushing against my bedtime (unintentionally), staying on the computer too long due to work. But well… I am having to take care of myself for now until I get alright. Within days of getting fine, I suppose I’d return to my baseline.

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