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Alive!

What a difference a week can make!  This same time last weekend, I was laid out in bed, with a terribly stuffy head cold and sinus congestion.  Essential peppermint oil seemed to relieve my headache somewhat, and hot tea loosened the perpetual "lovely phlegm" that slithered down my throat.  The coughing gagged me, and I found myself emitting forceful barks of hoarseness.  The Gilmore Girls kept company with me as I dosed in and out of their weekend marathon.

But today is a new beginning, the sunshine felt wonderful as I took Goldy on a morning walk, I was beginning to feel a-l-i-v-e. . . but not . . .

Here it is an additional ten days beyond those words that were supposed to remind me of how well I was. But to my chagrin, I developed even worse symptoms of perpetual sneezing, constant dripping, incessant coughing.  I have never been a person of allergies, and yet this second round of "illness" felt very allergy like.  Yes, my yard is full of trees and plants open with blooms.   In fact, our poor world is so mixed up with seasons.  At the time of my experience, it was still February, and yet the outside looked and felt as warm as the end of  May.

Now I was really beginning to wonder, was I ever going to return to my non nasal sounding self?  Was I ever going to stop coughing and blowing?  Even a night time Benadryl couldn't calm the histamine cascade inflamed through out my head and chest.  I began to blame our surrounding air, feeling like the toxins of man's actions, the long effects of the recent methane gas leak of Porter Ranch, were causing my perpetual symptoms.  I was beginning to resign myself to illness. . . 

Louise Hay in her book, You Can Heal Yourself, reminded my that all my nasal and respiratory symptoms were evidence of a person seeking notice and recognition.  Somehow I was one feeling unnoticed and uncared about.  Hmm,  yes, there was probably more than an element of truth in her words.   As a care provider for others, it usually is expected not to receive attention and validation.  Especially, as a woman, often we give of ourselves in an altruistic manner, as if it's our duty to do so until we die or become disabled.  It's all to be done in the name service to others, and yet within us, is this illness of lack of self care and health.  

I pondered my past days, what I had given up in caring for my soul?  An unexpected visit from my brother robbed my time of afternoon writing and blogging.  A time, I had set aside for weeks.  Of course, I enjoyed catching up with my brother, but never the less, I lost the time I had so looked forward too. The weeds in my frontyard and garden took me all day, almost all day, in clearing and separating them from the real plants which were intended to grow.  Yes, I did enjoy that activity, but just did not expect it to take as long as it did.  Plus, I was fighting fatigue, just couldn't seem to energize myself, even my cooking seemed a chore, and I was all thumbs.  My fail-proof Blueberry torte became a dry graham cracker mush.  

So, today, right now, I am turning the page.  I am breathing in and out, with gratitude for life as it is right now.  I am accepting that my physical being has been a bit worn out, doing it's best to rally behind the infection that initially besieged me.  I must give it time and rest to heal, it is OK to "let go" of all of the undone stuff around me.  And yes, I am becoming alive again!
 

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