I've used this photo-montage, before on the blog but it tells the story of just about every cold I get. I'm flat on the couch, reading Edwardian children's literature, and being trompled on by an affectionate fluffy kittycat.
Beloved cats pass away. Worn-out furniture is eventually replaced. Different books are re-read.
I have to confess that I've been feeling pretty stuck, and being sick doesn't help my mood. While Robb seems to have an infinite supply of Great Attitude, I've been doing a huge amount of worrying lately.
Worrying about our finances. We're living on way less money than we used to. And that's saying a lot, considering that we are both artists.
Worrying about my career. Have I "topped out" in my field? If I want to make a change, will I be able to afford to go back to school? Am I too old to ponder a radical career change? Do I even want to change, or am I just suffering a temporary period of discontent?
Worrying about the future of Robb's health. What are the long term implications of taking so many drugs? Why is he still experiencing so much discomfort? What will life be for him as his body ages?
I've been worrying about the fact that I have been slowing turning inward, and have not been seeking out friendships. Because we never know if we'll be having a good or a bad day, I've stopped making plans with anyone. I also dread going anywhere with friends, and having to tell them -- for the millionth time -- to please slow down. I feel boring and not worth hanging out with.
Most of the time, when I'm feeling healthy and strong, I can keep these sorts of demons under control, but they never really go away.