for some reason the counting crows are in my head this morning, but the title seems to fit with what i'm going to write about.
'round here i've been coughing. a lot. for like 3 months. first it was a cold. then the cold went away but not the cough. i've been going to the doctor. the doctor thinks i might have asthma. so right now i am on steroids and an inhaler but i also have a cold again on top of all of this. colds make you cough and so it never ends. needless to say, i haven't felt 100%. most days i feel about 75%. some less and sometimes - for snippets of a day, i feel more. by 7:30 at night i'm usually pretty tired. it stinks. i am trying to not make a big deal about it, and i'm sort of surprising myself that i'm even writing about it here, but i feel like it should be acknowledged, so i am.
this definitely impacts creative time, but i'm sort of pushing myself to make the time despite how i feel. why? well, for one - sitting at my desk is like meditation for me. i zone out - i leave my worries and i'm just there with whatever it is i am working on and the music i am listening to. i feel better mentally and spiritually after hanging out in the paint room for even a few minutes. for two, i have a lot of stuff to do. i've signed up for a lot of things and i have two deadlines by friday....eep! thank goodness i've taken a PTO day today and the little person in our house is going to daycare. the morning is mine to do with as i'd like, and then the afternoon will hold time with heather (movie, perhaps) and thanksgiving preparations. for three - even though i've been working towards returning to an artful life for a lot of this year, i still feel like i have to be conscious of working it into my life. it's feeling more and more natural, especially on saturday mornings, but to take the time other parts of the week sometimes feels weird or like i'm not deserving. i hate that feeling of not deserving something i love, and i don't know where it comes from, and i want to get beyond it. getting beyond it takes the practice of doing, so that's why I go in the paint room. that's why i write here. and that's why - asthma, cough or whatever i'll keep doing what i love.
i totally didn't expect point three. but there it is. it's true. it felt a bit angry, or perhaps defiant. a middle finger to my lungs or my cold or things that get in my way. i will not lose this part of me again.... i think that's what's really there.
isn't writing interesting? stuff comes out of no where sometimes and it hits you like a truck. or maybe like a train on a track? which reminds me of this song, which i love a whole whole bunch...
wonder if the counting crows and florence + the machine would make a good mash-up?