Convalescing
So here I am in Pennsylvania Furnace, Pennsylvania, convalescing at my mom's house. I just made it out of the city before it was hit with 27 inches (or more, depending on which of my friends you ask) of snow! Glad I didn't get caught in that. We only got about an inch here, which has already melted.
The idea behind coming to my mom's was that I'd have people to take care of me (my mom and my brother Zack) and no stairs to deal with. Unfortunately, since my arrival on Friday night, my mom has been sick with a nasty flu of some kind. She's been lying around the house coughing and sneezing and moaning and complaining. And not waiting on me! So I've had to fend for myself, and even help her out from time to time! What a gyp! Although it isn't so great for mom either. I'm no pro in the kitchen. The other day she asked me to make her some chicken soup. I forgot to add the can of water. It was a bit salty, to say the least.
But it's not all bad. Things are turning around now that she's getting better. And I've got my little brother wrapped around my finger. Right now he's making me lunch. Nice, right? He's also doing my laundry. And in a few minutes he will walk my dog. Which leaves me all the time I want to sit around and recuperate. Just what the doctor ordered.
With all this time on my hands, I find my mind drifting -- not so much drifting as receiving random flashes back in time to other periods when I wasn't working. The summer after graduation when I was doing OKLAHOMA (where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain) at the local community theater and dating the much-too-old-for-me leading man. That was a fun summer. Or the months I spent here at mom's when I moved away from New York in 2000. I dated the wrong guy then too, but still, it was a sort of fun four months of not working. (If you call reading books like "Finding Joy" and "What Color is Your Umbrella" fun. But hey -- I was really skinny at the time, and that's what's important, right?!)
And here I am again with time on my hands. And as always I find my mind scolding me to be productive, dammit! Get off your ass and do something. Take a walk, get some exercise, weave a basket, learn to juggle -- something. Well, seeing as the reason I have this time off is that I broke my foot, I can't very well take a walk. I don't know how to weave a basket, although I suppose, if I wanted to, I could learn. And I have tried to juggle a number of times, but I'm terrible at it -- and I'm OK with that.
Not that those are my only options. Obviously I have books to read, Soduko puzzles to master, and movies to watch.
But my body is starting to want out. Out of the air cast. Out of the chair, out of the house, out of the doldrums. I find my legs twitching and moving; I've become even more fidgety than I was already. I just want to get up and move!
So I do -- as much as I can. Yesterday I walked the dog around the house once using only one crutch. It was a good start, I suppose. And it helped settle me down a bit. But still, I feel like my body is in some sort of cage and wants to dig its way out.
Obviously there are a lot of positives to having this time off, and I can't pretend I don't appreciate them. I don't have to worry about my job, which stresses me out so much all the time. That's the main perk. I can get away with sitting on my ass while my brother makes my lunch or does my laundry or walks my dog. I can sleep until noon. I can watch soap operas all afternoon. I can read lots of books and magazines or stare out the window at the birds in the trees if I want.
So why am I going so crazy? Part of me feels like I'm getting away with something, and the other part feels like I'm being punished for something. Like I'm grounded. And on top of that, there is the guilt that I always feel when I'm not at work. And that other familiar guilt I feel when I seem to be getting a lucky break of some kind and I can't figure out why or if I deserve it.
But I guess I will never know whether this was a lucky break that I don't deserve. Maybe I do deserve it. Maybe it's a punishment that I deserve.
Or maybe it's just what it is -- paid leave from work due to an injury. It happens all the time. People do take advantage of it sometimes, but that's not what I'm doing. So I'm going to try to stop questioning it and letting it make me nervous. I'm going to just try to make the most of the time off in whatever ways I can come up with, and use it as an opportunity to rest, relax, catch up on things I never have time to do, and, most importantly, to heal.
I can be such a headcase sometimes.
Below are some pictures of what I see when I look out my windows here (except that these were taken in the fall and it's now winter, so obviously it isn't quite this green. But you get the idea).
The idea behind coming to my mom's was that I'd have people to take care of me (my mom and my brother Zack) and no stairs to deal with. Unfortunately, since my arrival on Friday night, my mom has been sick with a nasty flu of some kind. She's been lying around the house coughing and sneezing and moaning and complaining. And not waiting on me! So I've had to fend for myself, and even help her out from time to time! What a gyp! Although it isn't so great for mom either. I'm no pro in the kitchen. The other day she asked me to make her some chicken soup. I forgot to add the can of water. It was a bit salty, to say the least.
But it's not all bad. Things are turning around now that she's getting better. And I've got my little brother wrapped around my finger. Right now he's making me lunch. Nice, right? He's also doing my laundry. And in a few minutes he will walk my dog. Which leaves me all the time I want to sit around and recuperate. Just what the doctor ordered.
With all this time on my hands, I find my mind drifting -- not so much drifting as receiving random flashes back in time to other periods when I wasn't working. The summer after graduation when I was doing OKLAHOMA (where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain) at the local community theater and dating the much-too-old-for-me leading man. That was a fun summer. Or the months I spent here at mom's when I moved away from New York in 2000. I dated the wrong guy then too, but still, it was a sort of fun four months of not working. (If you call reading books like "Finding Joy" and "What Color is Your Umbrella" fun. But hey -- I was really skinny at the time, and that's what's important, right?!)
And here I am again with time on my hands. And as always I find my mind scolding me to be productive, dammit! Get off your ass and do something. Take a walk, get some exercise, weave a basket, learn to juggle -- something. Well, seeing as the reason I have this time off is that I broke my foot, I can't very well take a walk. I don't know how to weave a basket, although I suppose, if I wanted to, I could learn. And I have tried to juggle a number of times, but I'm terrible at it -- and I'm OK with that.
Not that those are my only options. Obviously I have books to read, Soduko puzzles to master, and movies to watch.
But my body is starting to want out. Out of the air cast. Out of the chair, out of the house, out of the doldrums. I find my legs twitching and moving; I've become even more fidgety than I was already. I just want to get up and move!
So I do -- as much as I can. Yesterday I walked the dog around the house once using only one crutch. It was a good start, I suppose. And it helped settle me down a bit. But still, I feel like my body is in some sort of cage and wants to dig its way out.
Obviously there are a lot of positives to having this time off, and I can't pretend I don't appreciate them. I don't have to worry about my job, which stresses me out so much all the time. That's the main perk. I can get away with sitting on my ass while my brother makes my lunch or does my laundry or walks my dog. I can sleep until noon. I can watch soap operas all afternoon. I can read lots of books and magazines or stare out the window at the birds in the trees if I want.
So why am I going so crazy? Part of me feels like I'm getting away with something, and the other part feels like I'm being punished for something. Like I'm grounded. And on top of that, there is the guilt that I always feel when I'm not at work. And that other familiar guilt I feel when I seem to be getting a lucky break of some kind and I can't figure out why or if I deserve it.
But I guess I will never know whether this was a lucky break that I don't deserve. Maybe I do deserve it. Maybe it's a punishment that I deserve.
Or maybe it's just what it is -- paid leave from work due to an injury. It happens all the time. People do take advantage of it sometimes, but that's not what I'm doing. So I'm going to try to stop questioning it and letting it make me nervous. I'm going to just try to make the most of the time off in whatever ways I can come up with, and use it as an opportunity to rest, relax, catch up on things I never have time to do, and, most importantly, to heal.
I can be such a headcase sometimes.
Below are some pictures of what I see when I look out my windows here (except that these were taken in the fall and it's now winter, so obviously it isn't quite this green. But you get the idea).
posted by jolott at
3:57 PM
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