I missed two days of blogging. In a row.
Sunday, I chose to skip. I was with folks all day. I went to church in the morning and out to lunch right after. My friend and I spent the afternoon get our nails done, and then my boyfriend and I went back to church for a core team meeting. We then hung out at my apartment until fairly late, since we barely saw each other last week. By the time he left, it was past my bedtime and I knew I would feel nothing but resentment if I had to bang out a post when I was ready for bed. So I skipped, with every intention of apologizing yesterday.
Yesterday, I wound up getting so sick I could barely function. I first felt off-kilter just as I was leaving work and found myself shivering on the bathroom floor less than six hours later. I had chills and aches and muscle cramps. You know, your average miserable flu patient. I finally told my boyfriend to go home once I started throwing up. The sicker I get, the less I want company. Sniffles? Sure, hang out, dote upon me. Bad headache? You can stay, but keep your distance. Vomiting? Get the hell away from me.
Thankfully, it was a true 24-hour bug. I woke up absolutely miserable with aches and that icky my-skin-hurts feeling, but I spent most of the day napping, watching movies, and nibbling saltines and finally felt mostly normal by late afternoon. So here I am. Writing. And eating oatmeal. Real food!
I did have a surprising moment, though. It happened last night, after I’d kicked Jackson out and dragged myself from the bathroom floor to the couch. I was curled up under my blanket, being totally pathetic and making noises halfway between a whimper and a sob. I was so uncomfortable, so miserable, so unbelievably sick that I actually started talking to God. I wouldn’t call it formal prayer, per se, but I was asking, out loud, for him to help me, to heal me. Please, I begged.
I don’t think I’ve ever done that before. I’m still learning how to turn to God in time of need. A few months ago, I was upset over a hurtful comment and cried it all out to God himself, but this time I was just physically miserable. And I asked him for help. I didn’t notice a marked difference, but just asking for his help… helped.
And he clearly listened, since I’m now halfway through this bowl of oatmeal with nothing but happy sounds coming from my tummy. To think I had my chin on the toilet seat not 24 hours ago… God is good indeed.
Hoping you are well.