Right now, I am sitting on the floor of my office with a giant down comforter cloaked over my shoulders like some sort of puffy wizard. Although I am currently shivering under the weight of this thing, in an hour or so, I will likely throw it off of me with a sense of disgust after suddenly realizing that my body is drenched in sweat and that the world has become a convection oven.
You see, friends, I have the flu. The real flu. Not the flu that I always pretend I have whenever I don't feel like working out. We're talking the real deal here. Influenza with a capital FLUENZA.
In fact, this is my second time being sick this month. First, it was an unrelenting cold turned sinus infection sent from the bowels of hell. I healed up semi-adequately from that, went on a lovely trip to Texas, and returned home with this flu that was probably sent from, I don't know, the bowels of a daycare center somewhere (I don't know why, but I just kind of feel like that would be a plausible breeding ground for disgusting viruses).
If I'm being honest, it's been a really frustrating time. Sure, there are far worse things in this world than having the flu. I know that. But it's just been a long stretch of feeling slightly useless. My husband can attest that I spent a good five minutes yesterday just growling in annoyance at my inability to do stuff. Actually growling. Like a dog.
I had so many plans going into this month, so much energy to get moving on my book and start working on new projects, and then in walked this garden variety illness to totally and completely knock me on my ass. I've been canceling time with friends and forgoing writing in favor of sweaty napping and ginger ale. For the majority of April, all I have been good for is lying on my couch and posting fever-induced selfies on Snapchat.
But you know what, life is like this sometimes. There are times in life in which you just can't. Even if you really really re-heaally want to, sometimes your present circumstance makes the thing you are dying to do virtually impossible.
And what I'm learning is that's okay.
Just kidding, I'm not actually learning this. But I want to learn it, and I think that's the first step.
In life, we talk a lot about pushing past barriers. We talk about beating the odds and overcoming obstacles and how Einstein was apparently a really crappy student but that didn't stop him or whatever.
But sometimes there just are barriers and they suck and that's life. Sometimes you get sick. Sometimes you get really sick. Sometimes tragedy strikes. Sometimes you don't have enough money. Sometimes you don't have enough time. Sometimes you are limited in ways you simply can't control.
And in those situations, it's better to accept limitations rather than obsess over what life could be like without them.
For instance, when I started this post, I had every intention of writing a well-constructed, thought-provoking piece on self-care. But I'm quickly realizing that I just can't. My head feels like it's got a watermelon growing inside of it and I can't even tell if any of the words I am typing make any sense at all.
But I just wanted to emerge from my self-pity for a moment to offer this not-so-revelatory bit of information just in case anyone else happened to need it. Here it is: sometimes you just can't. And that's okay.