I’m sick of being sick.

Generally speaking, I’m quite an independent person. I prefer doing things for myself and not depending on anyone else. I like proving again and again that I’m strong enough to handle anything life can throw at me.

Strangely enough, that motivation disappears with my health whenever I get sick and I turn into the biggest baby. All I can really stand to do is search out a blanket so I can cuddle on the couch and binge on Netflix and hot tea. I’ve been cursed with a cold in the middle of summer this week — an odd combination, really.

Anyway, we’re expecting company at the end of this week so I’m needed to clean and pick up the house. They are coming to celebrate my mother’s birthday on Friday so my task list also includes finishing up the DIY I’m making for my mother (If you’re reading this, Mom, forget the last sentence). As for the rest of you, I’ll be sure to include a picture or two so you can admire my amateur painting skills (again, Mom, don’t remember that). The point is, I’ve been busy and I haven’t quite gotten all the rest I would prefer.

A year ago, I would’ve been biting people’s heads off. Eh, that would take too much effort though so it’s more reasonable to suggest that I would probably throw used tissues at intruders if they ventured too close. But now? I’m still miserable but I try not to show it so much. I’m actually being productive, rather than sulking in bed all day bemoaning my pitiful existence and the curse of Mr. Snot — see Meagan’s poem on her blog A Flickering Flame here: http://meaganfisherblog.wordpress.com/2014/08/04/a-poem-for-my-ill-friend

It’s not much to be proud of, but I’m excited that I can notice even the slightest bit of improvement. Even still, that excitement is tinged with the knowledge that I’m not the same person I was a year ago and the realization that I will never be that girl again. Deep down, she is still there and there will always be that irritable part of me that will resurface occasionally when I don’t feel well. I’m proud of myself for adapting and changing and I’m interested to see who I will become in another year.

For now, however, I will be contented with my to-do list and another cup of cinnamon tea so I can try and stay awake. I’ll let that pathetic little girl slip out for a second and admit that I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.

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