Don’t Fight A Cold, Embrace It

I felt like Helena Bonham Carter‘s The Red Queen when I awoke this morning – head tripled in size, pale as a mime, yelling “off with their head!”  It would’ve been funny if I didn’t feel so under the weather.  Where did that saying come from anyway? As if there’s a hovering, dark cloud I’m crouching beneath…

Well, it seems that cloud has been ominously harboring an occasional cough, lurking…stalking…waiting for just the right moment… and now it’s invited some rascally friends over:  sneezey, wheezy, runny, and headache-y.  I feel like an Alka-Seltzer commercial, or one of the Seven Dwarves.

So what, you say?  It’s December.  But I’m not one of those who, when this time of year rolls around says “I always get sick when this time of year rolls around.”   In fact, I don’t get sick anymore, at least not in that bronchial infection-sore throat-winter blues kind of way.  Rather, since I purged the bad habits of my life, like smoking, drinking to excess, dating emotional vampires, and working 65 hours a week, I’ve been respiratorily fit.  I could make out with a phlegm-friendly, Keflex-popping, walking pneumonia patient and saunter away sniffle-free.  Luckily, my immune system is currently respecting my lack of health insurance, and for that, I am grateful.  So what’s with my Big Head Todd and the Monsters?

Well, apparently even a downsized life adjusts relative to its environment.  Less affects me more now.  I’m like the princess and the pea and DAMN that pea is a bruiser!  So what’s my strategy?  Don’t fight it, embrace it.  And stop with the fairy tale metaphors.

First thing, I hydrate incessantly – water, tea, cider, and no coffee, thankyouverymuch. There’s cups of Yogi tea and OJ in progress on practically every flat surface and I hope I don’t capsize, I’m sloshing around so much.

Second, I check my trusty Louise Hay mini-tome, Heal Your Body, hands down the most thumbed-through book on my shelf.  (Buy it.  Read it.  You’ll thank me later.)  According to the guru of metaphysical therapy, I’ve got too much going on;  I’m disordered.  Maine to Connecticut to Manhattan to Brooklyn back to Connecticut to upstate New York to Connecticut back to Maine.  What?!?

What I need is a break, both geographically and creatively – it’s not just my engine that’s been thrown full-throttle, but my imagination has been working overtime, too, hence my body’s message to climb back into bed…

and.

just.

stop.

Third, the hug:  a deep appreciation for my body’s wisdom, even though I mostly overlooked it ’til now.  If I didn’t hit the brakes, I’d be like Wile E. Coyote, splat up against the painted boulder.  Who wouldn’t choose a cuddle over a crash and burn?

Now the Rx:  supplements.  Airborne, Vitamin C, zinc… and just because Echinacea hasn’t run the FDA gauntlet successfully doesn’t mean that it doesn’t work.  Put that in your cauldron and stir it.  Can you say, at the very least, P-L-A-C-E-B-O?

Finally, I focus on all those beautiful, healthy parts of me.  Remember how your mom said if you kept making that face, it would stay that way?  She was right.  So I stop making that ugly, can’t-you-see-I-feel-like-crap face and begin marvelling at those new muscles I’m getting from yoga, and how strangely enough, my hair looks shiny and smooth today.

Wouldn’t ya know it?  I feel better already.

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