Thursday, April 7


I'm really not going for the sympathy vote today. If anything, I'm going for the opposite. If I read this post on somebody else's blog I'd definitely want to comment something like "You absolute gimp. Pull yourself together."

I'm sick. I've been sick for over a week, and I'm no better than I was seven days ago. My voice is squeaky and cracked, and because I have to teach I am unable to rest it, so it just gets worse, rather than better. My nose is blocked and I can't smell anything. I feel feverish when I wake up in the morning, and drag myself through the school day, only to feel guilty at 3.15pm when I drag myself home again to collapse on the sofa. I can't ring my dad, or my sister, it just hurts. Instead I send them weary texts, or Facebook messages.

James' birthday went largely uncelebrated last weekend, due to the fact that I was unable to get out of bed, so I have stacks of residual guilt about that too.

When I'm at work I am constantly berating myself for only being able to give about 60%, and worry that my colleagues are looking down at me.

I haven't worn any 'nice' clothes or makeup for over a week. I haven't blow-dried my hair, or straightened my fringe. I haven't cooked any meals, or undertaken any kitchen activity greater than heating up a ready meal.

I can't do any more job applications. Just thinking about filling in another form makes me feel like I'm about to cry.

It could be worse. It has been worse. I felt the cold kiss of dread creep across my body as I cradled the telephone receiver after discovering my mother had terminal cancer. I should really pull myself together. I want to. But knowing that I can't is making me feel utterly useless.

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