Down with the Sickness

I'm going to put this out there...

I don't do being sick. 

Who would enjoy the sniffles? Who would enjoy the fever or the random aches? Does anyone enjoy that feeling of being cold but having a five layers on and kicking and flailing under the covers because you just don't know what else to do with your clearly broken body? 

But it's not broken. It's not a forever feeling.

Then why does it feel like forever?

When I'm sick (and you can verify this with friends and family) I hide away, as much as I can. I do the absolute minimum tasks I must do, like work or school, and then I bury myself in covers and try to pretend that sleeping is the same as being well. For the first few days, I'll go and run. It'll feel awful and I'll not feel any sense of accomplishment. What's the sense in running if I can't better myself? What's the point of leaving my bed if I don't want to see the world? What's the point? To me, being sick is a defeat I can't handle. I sort through all my interactions in the last few weeks and try to find patient zero. I'll go through any parts of a day I can remember and ask myself when I washed my hands. Where could I have been more cautious?

I know..."Chill, bro."

But there are only so many days in this life. I don't want to give away the precious moments to a bed and a negative thought process. I don't want to look out my window and wish I were there. I want to be there. The larger part of the problem is the feeling that the clock is counting down and I'm too much of a control freak to let something else decide when I go. It's there lurking in the best of moments, whispering, "You better enjoy this moment. There will only be so many." It's there is the worst of experiences holding a sign that says "Never waste a moment." Because to me, when I feel anything other than chipper, I feel like I've wasted something so precious. 

The thing is, the rain clouds don't stop because you hate the rain. The storm passes when the weather allows for it to. I'm starting to accept the fact that the grey is just as good as the blue. On some days, it is even sweeter. When I'm sick, I'm learning to appreciate the civil war my cells are fighting - and that it is a gift my body is doing what it needs to do to survive.

But when I'm dancing alone with my red nose and puffy cheeks, or laughing through misty eyes I'm trying to do the same.