This morning I successfully juggled chores, the baby and getting myself out the door without hay in hair. I arrived to deliver a presentation guiding the next chapter of a startup with the voice of a toad. Since Christmas Eve I have found myself wilting due to what I believe to be my own undoing - a persistent head cold.
This cold was becoming one of legend plaguing people for weeks, many warning me that it goes to their chest, turning into a nasty upper respiratory infection. Just what you want to hear at the dinner table.
I remember the day before I talked myself into surrendering to what is currently being called the, "crud". It was a fairly normal day, however I was allowing myself to be haunting by upcoming events wallowing in feelings that were confusing, sometimes infuriating, leaving me contemplating a deep disappointment. Let's just say airing my expectations was not on my to-do list. The plan was be cordial, be brief and keep Christmas simple. An over simplified conversation was exchanged and Christmas got simpler that I would have liked. I was starving for an opportunity, contemplating my response if the roles had been reversed I imagined offering, "I know things aren't perfect, but I love you and still want to see you. Would you be up for meeting me for coffee?". I found myself in a familiar lonely position planting expectations once again I am not brave enough to share.
Instantly I felt drained and the next morning I woke up sick.
Sniffles, cough, insomnia, and refreshed appreciation for Puffs tissues - with lotion of course I am still wondering how much of this cold is my body and how much of it is my mind.