For the last week, I've been on the sore-throat-bad-cold-pinkeye-only-eating-what-my-body-is-
A whole week of chicken soup, flavored herbal teas, sushi (strange craving while sick?) grapefruit juice, scrambled eggs and not much else.
I've also been craving protein a lot; chicken, eggs, tuna, nuts, etc. Weird.
It's getting to the point where I am feeling more and more pitiful when it comes to my illness. For over a week, I haven't been able to sing normally, pay attention in class, eat normal food, do a lot of the tons of work I have to do, or enjoy my last few weeks of the gorgeous Jerusalem springtime. All I want to do is curl up in bed with a good book or movie and sip tea as I take my over-the-counter drugs and pray for a r'fua sh'lema, a complete healing, to come upon me very soon.
Very rarely do I get sick like this; I'm the kind of sickie who keeps going, trying desperately not to succumb to her illness in order to live life as normal. It's hard, especially at points in the semester where there is more work to do than time to do it (like right now) to allow myself to take the time to stop, to heal, to rest. I feel as though I need to keep going and get everything on my list accomplished, despite what might be going on inside that is screaming at me to stop.
And sometimes, when I'm at my most pitiful, all I really want is someone who will take care of me. Someone who will bring me tea and sit with me and tell me that I'll be all better before too long. It sounds so cheesy, even for me, but it's times like this when I feel the most alone. I'm reminded that I only have myself to take care of myself, despite all the others around me who, if I could just ask, would be happy to help me. It's funny to me how I have seen, through losing weight this year, how supportive and helpful people are. And yet when it comes to asking for help in other areas of my life, it's so difficult for me to do--there's still such a part of me that needs to prove to everyone that I can do everything on my own, without help or support from anyone. Just like my dad--and his life is nothing to be especially proud of.
What does it take to open yourself up enough to ask for help, and to receive it happily, without feeling childish or incapable of helping yourself?