I have been laid up in bed for the last week or so with COVID. Managing to avoid it until now, the final two of us in the family (the two introverts) caught it.
It will surprise no one that I am a terrible sick person. When I am well, there is nowhere I would rather be than in bed. I go to bed most evenings by 8, just so I get time to enjoy the simple act of actually being in bed before I go to sleep.
However, the minute I have to be in bed because of illness or injury, I am DONE. I want out. I have these sudden urges to clean the house from top to bottom, muck out the hay barn, redo the garden, clear out the polytunnel…things that I have procrastinated for months become the singular obsession of my virus addled mind.
I try to get up, sometimes I even make it downstairs before a salt and pepper haired, bearded half South African marches me back up to bed. Its a joke now, after 20 years of this, where I feebly try to escape my sickbed and do some grand feat of exertion and then Kevin runs some sort of interference to get me back to resting. He speaks to me in my favourite language, pop culture memes, and reminds me that rest is a radical act and naps saves lives.
And so spent the best part of two weeks in bed. I read 12 books, watched both seasons of White Lotus and developed a significant addiction to Sister Wives TikTok (can you even believe Kody?!). Other things fell behind, the house was a mess, my sourdough starter developed a crust, minimal work got done and every one lived to tell the tale.
In the past, I would’ve found this harder. I am one of those people who’s self worth is firmly tied to how productive I am, as if the sheer act of doing things makes me somehow a better person. I frequently measure the success or failure of a day in how many items I ticked off a list…not if I enjoyed them or helped anyone or made anything better, but simply that items moved to the done column. Despite logically knowing this is ablest, capitalist BS, these patterns are ingrained.
You know how lessons keep coming back into your life until you learn them? That has been this year in a nutshell. First a knee injury meant I spent about 6 months hobbling around, unable to do as many of the garden things I wanted and then setting myself back when I did. Then, the kids started needing more. Any parent of children with additional support needs will tell you nothing puts a stop to productivity like endless meetings and phone calls (or the constant worry of if and when a call will come). Then, as a result of this and other, external (thanks BREXIT, COVID and the cost of living crisis) factors, I had to cut back my workload.
2022 has been a year of untethering my self esteem from any grandiose ideas of what success and productivity looks like. It has been a year of quiet achievements, of turning up and doing what we can and that being enough. There haven’t been any lofty targets met, no goals smashed, but we are fed and warm and healthy and that is more than enough.
And that is an achievement worth celebrating.
If you have ordered Life in the Making Issue 05, expect an exciting update in your inbox early next week!! We are delayed due to me being unwell (and the Royal Mail delays), but don’t worry. We have been scheming!
The best book I read in my stupor was Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin. I LOVED it, even though it broke my heart.
The beautiful Homegrown Sourcebook, Issues 1-3 are on sale until the 14th and then they will be retired. We contributed to all 3 issues and absolutely love all the recipes and tutorials they contain! You can buy them here
I can relate to much of this. I love "but we are fed and warm and healthy and that is more than enough." Amen to that! 💟
I feel seen!