I can’t believe it’s been 10 days since my last post, but then again, I guess I can. As many of you also have been lately, I’ve been running hither and thither to various work, social, exercise, and medical engagements. Despite tiring myself out thoroughly, I haven’t slept any better than I usually do–which is to say, I haven’t slept well at all.
As of last night, I had worn myself plumb out. I knew that I was ridiculously tired because when I couldn’t find my fall coat, I threw a fit inside my head, belittling myself with statements like, “You always lose things! You haven’t grown up at all–you’re still the ten-year-old who ruins all your clothes!” That internal berating (similar to the useless kind I used to give myself over food, but no longer do: “You have no self control! You’re never going to lose weight!”) was going on while my husband, my best friend, and I drove to a showing of Juno that I had scored free tickets to. I told myself to just calm down and let it go, but truly, I didn’t let go of it until my friend’s husband called to say I’d left my jacket in their car several days earlier.
Maybe I should have just skipped the movie, though I really enjoyed it. (Very funny, at least if you have my sense of humor.) I was worn out watching it, though. My throat had started hurting yesterday afternoon, an it throbbed through the movie.
Then it got worse today. Around 2 p.m. at my job, I realized I wan’t getting any actual work done; I was just propping myself up to stay there, and drinking an enormous load of my organization’s bottled water to keep my throat functioning. I decided to take care of myself, so I left. I came home and crawled into bed. I read things on the internet. I coughed a lot. I ate enough cough drops to upset my tummy. I fretted over useless things. I tried to rest, at least, but still didn’t really.
When my husband got home from work, he bore the groceries I had asked him to pick up for me to make dinner. I got out of bed to make dinner, and it was good. Even though I didn’t feel well, even though I stopped occasionally to put my head down on the counter, and even though I had to eat more stomach-upsetting cough drops to keep from hacking up my left lung entirely, it felt right to be in the kitchen putting together a recipe that I had made up. I made up the recipe for my entry in a contest that ends tomorrow, a contest I had been meaning to enter for a month. I’ll post the recipe with more details after the contest ends, but for now, I’ll share a photo of it with you.
I made a Thai red curry lasagna. One that uses lots of veggies, rice lasagna noodles, and not much (goat mozzarella) cheese. Maybe that veggie power will help me feel better this weekend–let’s hope so.
In the process of making the lasagna, something shifted in me. I began to calm down a bit. When I’m stressed out, it definitely helps if cooking or baking turns out well; it recenters me. And, with the success of my lasagna, I was on a kick, so I took out my last little bit of energy. I pulled out my beloved (but . . . never used–till now!) rattling container of alphabet cookie cutters; put together a gluten-free, allergen-free batch of sugar cookies (using the Cherrybrook Kitchen, ghee, extra vanilla extract, hazelnut milk, and extra sugar to use for rolling the cookie dough out); and spelled out a message for my dear husband, who was on the phone talking Christmas presents with his family:
See? I didn’t even have the energy left to try to take a good photo of it. (Or to spell out “you,” God help me–that’s when you know you have it bad.) I did want to save it for posterity before I ate the “I,” though.
Of course, I did show Dan first. He grinned really broadly and then ate the “U.”
And now I’m out of energy for the day. It’s all I can do to lie on my bed and type. My husband and I were invited to four (four!) parties that take place tomorrow, two of which I really want to attend, and I had been thinking we’d pack in a trip to my hometown, and a visit to the microcar museum my husband has wanted to see, and last-minute Christmas shopping . . . and . . . and . . . well, we’ll see. But I’m listening to myself now, listening to my body. I’m going to sleep late, I hope. Maybe I’ll Christmas shop tomorrow; maybe I won’t. Maybe, sadly, we’ll (or at least I’ll, though I doubt he’ll go without me) have to miss all the parties tomorrow. But I’m going to rest, dammit, starting right now. And figure out this weekend what healthy, easy goodies to make in this upcoming week of insanity without pushing myself further over the edge.