Three weeks of glorious vacation time. Three weeks of planned nothingness, perfect laziness and enormous amounts of not-anything-to-do.
Except for dinner with friends. Kayaking. Bowling. Theme parks. Good food. And all of the boyfriendly fun. FUN things. Delicious things. Awesome things.
And with my second vaccine jab about to kick in – all of that with a much safer feeling than the past year and a half. A recipe for success, you might think.
My body disagrees.
The last 7 days I’ve found myself fighting a stomach bug and befriending my white porcelain throne. Gained 30 years when I bent over and practically broke my back to be reduced to a limpy grumpy mess. Had headaches. Sniffles. And a thorough feeling of ‘WHY BODY WHY’ throughout all of it.
It’s a sign that I’ve worked too hard for too long, I think. That I forced myself to function on high levels without respite for months on end. Scared to stop and breathe. Unable to check out even slightly. So now that I’m free from workly demands – my body is caving in.
All of the stress and battles and tiptoeing on the edge of strength is converging into me being a wreck of yuck. Stupid body. Can’t you have me get sick on the bosses time instead?
I wanna enjoy my man and vacation to the fullest. Not survive on ibuprofen and sobs. You suck body. You suck.