I have no scientific evidence to back this up. I have no peer-reviewed studies. I have nothing except my own personal experience and the fact that I currently feel like I have been hit by a bus.
I have a cold.
My child, who I am almost positive is the person who lovingly gifted me this cold, seems to have survived the experience relatively unscathed. She may have been a little more whiny during her healing process. Maybe a little more emotional. A little more tired than usual.
Meanwhile, I am over here wishing for the sweet release of a quick death. (I am kidding, but man, it's rough.)
When I was a kid and I got sick, being sick was… honestly, kind of an inconvenience.
Sure, I didn't feel good. My nose was stuffed up, my throat hurt, and I possibly complained dramatically from the couch while watching television. But I could rest.
I didn't have anywhere I had to be.
I didn't have work emails waiting for me.
I didn't have dishes that somehow still needed to be washed.
I didn't have meals to figure out.
I didn't have a child who still needed to be fed, entertained, reminded to brush her teeth, helped with homework, or generally kept alive.
If I was sick, I was allowed to be sick.
And now?
Now I am an adult.
Which means that even when my body is begging me to lie down and do absolutely nothing, my brain is still running through a mental checklist of everything I should be doing.
The laundry needs to be moved.
What are we having for dinner?
Did I answer that email?
I should probably clean that.
I really need to get caught up on that thing.
I don't feel like doing any of this.
But I should.
And I think that's part of what makes being sick as an adult feel so much worse.
Maybe it's not that the common cold is actually more aggressive now. Maybe it's that the responsibilities are.
When I was a kid, I could surrender to being sick.
Now, even when I physically can't do anything, I still feel the weight of everything I am not doing.
There's a certain guilt that comes with being sick as an adult. Especially as a mom.
Because the world doesn't exactly stop when you get sick.
The laundry doesn't care.
The dishes don't care.
Your inbox definitely doesn't care.
And unfortunately, your children rarely care that you feel like you've been personally victimized by the respiratory system.
So today, I am doing the bare minimum.
I've been amping up the vitamin C. I'm trying to rest when I can. I'm drinking plenty of fluids and doing my best to listen to my body instead of arguing with it about everything I think I should be accomplishing.
And today's blog post?
This is it.
No pretty pictures.
No perfectly curated moments.
No elaborate life lesson wrapped up in a neat little bow.
Just me, feeling like garbage, using the very last of my available spoons to write this post before I call it a day.
When I started rebuilding this blog, I wanted authenticity to be at the center of it. I want to talk about real life, not just the fun, pretty, put-together parts of it.
And sometimes real life is being sick.
Sometimes it's admitting that you don't have anything left in the tank.
Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is survive the rest of the day and call that enough.
So that's what I'm doing today.
I'm giving myself permission to do the bare minimum.
The laundry can wait.
The dishes can wait.
The blog can wait.
And honestly?
I think I can, too.
At least until tomorrow.
Assuming this cold doesn't finish me off first.
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