Fake it till you make it. That’s the motto for today. After a week of chest colds and increasingly bad face and head pain I am pushing through. Ok, I am trying at least.
Last night ended somewhere around 6:30 am with me watching the first half of PBS Masterpiece’s Rebecca. Sleep wasn’t happening. Each time I would feel tired enough to turn out the light I would curl up and the pounding in my head would become the sole source of sensory input. It would pound and pound and pound and pound…
So instead of trying to find a way to sleep through my body’s version of a late night Blue Man Group performance I decided I would just watch something until I could not keep my eyes open.
As a person with photo and audio phobia at times like these it’s interesting to turn to the tv for distraction. I had to put the sound to a level that didn’t cause pain but also didn’t make me strain to hear. I had to significantly lower the brightness on the screen. However, after these things were accomplished my headache and I dove into the mysterious and potentially murderous passions of Maxim DeWinter.
When I awoke this afternoon it was to more strong pounding and a desire to sink into bed and never get up. At moments like this I borrow from the Hunger Games. After Rue has been killed Katniss goes into a quasi catatonic state in the arena. When she comes back to herself she does so with simple instructions.
“It’s time to get up Katniss”, “It’s time to drink water Katniss”.
When I feel that desire to sink into pain and lose the day I follow her example. “It’s time to get up Katniss.” It’s time to shower Katniss”.
This is how Operation Fake It Till You Make It began. (FITYMI) I have canceled virtually everything this week because of pain. I have accomplished very little. I actually went 7 days without a shower before somewhat abashedly discovering that fact. (Thank the goddess for lavender oil) So it’s time to use the routines of a healthy Misty to get out of this hole.
I showered. I put on makeup and did my hair. I put a goddamned bow in my hair. I dressed in something other than pajamas. I put on lipstick. I ate. I made my bed and grabbed my computer and checked email.
Do I feel better? No. No I don’t.
Do I feel like curling up in a ball at the bottom of a well until the world slowly seals me over for a lifetime of eternal darkness? No, not anymore, not today. Even if all I do today is stay in bed and watch my quietly dimmed television set my mood is more determined. I am once again ready to continue this never-ending grind of a fight.
So my fellow spoonies: It’s time to get up.