Post-heavy cold recovery

Apologies, but this is a bit of a poor-old-me session; the POMs kick in quite often, though I usually try and minimise their effect on the people around me. But as this is my journal of the lifestyle change I'm trying to make, and this is all relevant to me, I decided to record the moment -- so if you can't cope with my POMs... don't read any further!

Last week I should have seen Mary, but she cancelled because she's on holiday. But then again, on Tuesday afternoon I began such a heavy cold that I only slept a couple of hours that night; so there's no way I'd have gone to my appointment on Wednesday morning. So far that's the only good thing about this cold -- it's timing has been quite good (as colds go, you understand!).

Spent the next three days in bed (or more accurately, not 'in bed' but 'on armchair', with legs up and back sloped back as far as I could manage -- and still breathe -- which wasn't very far at all). By Wednesday evening, my ribs ached from coughing and throwing up, and I was so tired I didn't know what to do with myself; after three hours in bed, I gave up trying to go to sleep, and instead, put on some washing, filled the dishwasher, fixed the boiler (topped it up - I'm no plumber!), and cleaned a bit of the bathroom (wiped out the sink, and put bleach down the loo). After which I retired to my armchair again, and finally managed to drop off for 20 mins... but it was just enough to stop that 'restless' feeling of being unable to lie still, and allowed to me to get to sleep in bed - thoroughly propped up by half-a-dozen pillows (yes, really -- count them -- 6). There I managed a blessed four hours; not enough, but enough to satisfice (yes, that's a real word - look it up!).

So here we are at Monday morning, and I'm finally back at work -- counting the cost of absence. But in my mind, the real cost has been the work that Mary and I were doing on trying to come to terms with my emotions; I don't 'do' emotions -- at least not in public -- and anything that hurts or I can't cope with has just been suppressed for so many years that I don't really know how to access them any more. The problem is they're still there, festering away, leaking their poison into the rest of my life. So this week, I've forgotten to take some of my insulin, I've eaten some not-so-good-for-me stuff at the wrong times (like biscuits), I've forgotten to take my tablets, I've done no exercise, and my shoes don't fit because everything has swollen up. Not exactly the poster-girl for the work we're trying to do. I could use the excuse that I've been ill, but that's exactly what it would be -- an excuse... and anyway that somehow feels like 'cheating'.

I can already hear Mary's voice telling me not to be so hard on myself, but if I wasn't, who would be? Someone has to rescue me from myself. But the truth is I feel flat and empty right now. And where is God in all this? Well, he's there -- 'he's here' would be a better rendition -- but I have to admit I've hardly thought about him at all this last week... selfish to the last. But this one thing I'm sure of -- just because I haven't thought about him, doesn't mean he hasn't thought about me. He's done nothing but think of me, and sit with me.

I was just trying to think about a verse to illustrate what I'm talking about and I remembered one that says something about 'the eyes of the Lord watch over us', so I looked it up, and thought I'd put it here - notice what he does for the 'crushed'(!). Lord you are truly amazing.

Psalm 34: 15-19

15 The eyes of the Lord watch over those who do right;
    his ears are open to their cries for help.
16 But the Lord turns his face against those who do evil;
    he will erase their memory from the earth.
17 The Lord hears his people when they call to him for help.
    He rescues them from all their troubles.
18 The Lord is close to the brokenhearted;
    he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.

19 The righteous person faces many troubles,
    but the Lord comes to the rescue each time.