So, I’ve come to realize that a sick me is **NOT** very nice. My bad…. Seriously.
When my immune system inevitably fails me and I catch whatever bug that plans to make me bedridden for however long it sees fit I get all sorts of bitchy.
85% of the time, I’m a snarky sweetheart but a sweetheart none the less. When I’m feeling less than great I’m just a snarky bitch who is annoyed at the world.
I don’t mean to come off as a rude sack of shit but all I want is my solitude. If I feel like talking I will instigate a conversation but chances are I just wanna snuggle into my bed and sleep till I don’t feel like utter crap.
It’s not that I don’t want company, but well I don’t want company. So unless you are content to find something to occupy your time while I lay in bed being dramatic and watching whatever low budget horror movie I can find, I am not the right person for company. Honestly, I barely wanna brush my hair when I feel like this… I mean, I brush it but that’s only because of the headache that will ensue when I’m feeling better and I try to pull a comb through it. There’s a lot of cussing… it is not a pretty sight. I have a horrific potty mouth.
So contrary to how adorable best friend #2 says I look curled up in a mountain of pillows and blankets sporting flushed cheeks and clutching a teddy bear, I don’t feel all that adorable. I feel like an achy, sniffle-y ball of messiness that doesn’t wanna look in the mirror let alone open the door and look at another individual.
I hate feeling babied. It gets me all sorts of grumpy. I’m the same way when I’m feeling sad. Don’t try and “It’ll be ok” me, and please don’t do that awkward back rub… my skin literally crawls and I get beyond annoyed and if I’m honest, a little angry.
Sick me is a grumpy bitchy mess.
I especially hate it from people I don’t know more than a passing hello. I don’t know why that is, it’s more of a me thing I guess but if we’ve never met and have only spoken a hand full of times on social media… no, I don’t want you to come over and take care of me. Like come on… *seriously?*
There is a house full of people I can yell for or send a text to that can take care of me if I ever stop being an antisocial hermit when I’m sick. There are also these annoying people that claim to love me and on most days, I love them back. I’m not so sure though, jury is still out on whether they are clinically insane or not for putting up with me. They like to force themselves into my house and stand at the door of my room laughing at my pitifulness and ask if I’m still alive in here. (Honestly I love you assholes but sleep damn it, that’s all I want!)
Enter the uber bitchy version of me. I don’t mean to let her come out but well… she does.
Also, I know you may mean well but I hate those messages telling me to do this or that. It’s frustrating when someone thinks they know what’s going on with my body better than I do. I have this uncanning ability to know when I need the hospital and when sleep will do me just fine. I know when I’ve put myself through too much. See the spoon theory for further explanation. There is also an epic explanation by Christine Miserandino that I read many moons ago that breaks it down better then I can ever hope. I don’t mean to but I get snappy when people preach to me about what I should and shouldn’t do and even if I don’t mean to, the snark comes out to play and I may say something that may not sound like my normal friendly/playful self. I appreciate the care, I genuinely do but it wears on me trying to explain it over and over.
So, to the friends that have tried to make this sick pain in the ass feel better, thank you and I’m sorry I’m an irritable mess. I genuinely appreciate all the text messages and love but just let me sleep it off and take whatever meds Doctors A, B, and C have prescribe to me. I promise I’ll be back to my happy self once I feel better.