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Mar. 21st, 2007 05:10 pmI'm in the stage of illness where life is coloured despondent.
I was fine last night and this morning, because I taught and my students were *wonderful*. They all acted as if what I was teaching was the only thing they had ever wanted to learn.
After class today I slept, because really, doing normal stuff when you're still running a fever and coughing and stuff takes it out of you. I woke up to the penultimate stage of my infection.
The trouble is that there's always an emotional truth that gets laid bare at this stage. It passes, but that doesn't make any aspect of it less real or less true. It also doesn't make the secondary infection serious. I become weepy and head for comfort food and a few days later it's all gone.
This time I'm feeling every door that has been slammed in my face, every mentor who gave hints and help to other people but left me floundering. There have been a surprising number of doors slammed, sometimes because of my personality, sometimes my health, sometimes my religion and sometimes my nationality. Once because I came from Melbourne. Never because of my shoesize.
When I'm emotionally robust I think about how rich my life has been because I didn't get the breaks a lot of other people got (making lemonade from lemons), but today I can't do that. Phonecalls from people who are getting breaks don't help. I'm very happy for my friends and their achievements, but I'm also reminded of all my failures. Even if only ten percent are *my* failures and the other ninety arose from entirely different reasons.
This is just the bronchitis speaking. When I get a bit better I will battle again and I will remember that life isn't fair and that for each closed door of opportunity I've had three open doors of friendship. Just now, though, I feel morose. I'm wedged in the wrong side of wellness and I will emerge in a day or so.
I was fine last night and this morning, because I taught and my students were *wonderful*. They all acted as if what I was teaching was the only thing they had ever wanted to learn.
After class today I slept, because really, doing normal stuff when you're still running a fever and coughing and stuff takes it out of you. I woke up to the penultimate stage of my infection.
The trouble is that there's always an emotional truth that gets laid bare at this stage. It passes, but that doesn't make any aspect of it less real or less true. It also doesn't make the secondary infection serious. I become weepy and head for comfort food and a few days later it's all gone.
This time I'm feeling every door that has been slammed in my face, every mentor who gave hints and help to other people but left me floundering. There have been a surprising number of doors slammed, sometimes because of my personality, sometimes my health, sometimes my religion and sometimes my nationality. Once because I came from Melbourne. Never because of my shoesize.
When I'm emotionally robust I think about how rich my life has been because I didn't get the breaks a lot of other people got (making lemonade from lemons), but today I can't do that. Phonecalls from people who are getting breaks don't help. I'm very happy for my friends and their achievements, but I'm also reminded of all my failures. Even if only ten percent are *my* failures and the other ninety arose from entirely different reasons.
This is just the bronchitis speaking. When I get a bit better I will battle again and I will remember that life isn't fair and that for each closed door of opportunity I've had three open doors of friendship. Just now, though, I feel morose. I'm wedged in the wrong side of wellness and I will emerge in a day or so.