Not The World’s Best Patient

I am close to saying I am sick. I don’t say that often. When I feel something coming on like this  cold like mess I have now, I try to outrun it. If I don’t say it, if I don’t admit it, don’t give voice to it, it will go away. That is the way I do with negative things. Don’t give it a voice and you don’t give it life. Speak positively.

I know what it is like to live with someone who was truly sick. Terminally ill. Therefore, I hesitate to say I am sick. I may not feel the best but hopefully I can shake it with some rest. Which once again takes me back to the waiting place.

Sometimes, okay most of the time, I run and I run hard. I have lots of projects going and I am working at something mentally or physically all the time

So when I am sick, it is better for me to be alone. I fret over what I am not doing. I will get up and do some work then nap. I will drink water and I will nap. I would like to be big on naps. Used to, when I had someone to lay down with, I could nap. Now, being where I am, if I nap during the day time hours, I don’t sleep well at night.

Being in the waiting place, waiting for and working for the dreams I want to come to come true.  To see this project that would involve the things and person  I love get off the ground and be successful and I believe it will. That is one of the things I am waiting for. So for now, I work, I try, I fail, I try again and again and again.

So as I sit on my sofa coughing my brains out telling my mother not to come near me and no I don’t need to come to their house. I sketch, I look at different shades of the same colors, I try not to think about the fact that I have finally given in. I am not a good patient. I have cared for one who was an excellent patient. He couldn’t have stood me if the shoe had been on the other foot.

I feel another nap creeping upon me.

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