Love Hard Laugh Harder

Lately, I have been on the struggle bus. I seem to have a season pass if we’re being honest. I went on my first international trip at the end of April and was home by May 3rd. Technically, there were airport delays (Thanks, JFK!), and it was Saturday morning, May 4th. 

The trip was great, but the travel between Rome, Italy, and Detroit, Michigan, was obnoxious. I was so thankful once I finally made it home to my cats. I mostly unpacked that night before falling into bed. Once I was functioning on Saturday, I set about mowing the lawn, which looked like a jungle, thanks to all the rain we had received while I was gone. I completed the front and was about to start on the back when I needed to add gas to my mower. I accidentally flooded the engine and decided to let the backyard be a Sunday problem.

That night, I woke up and suspected I may have a fever, but that was another Sunday problem, I decided, as I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up Sunday morning, I decided to take my temperature. Lo and behold, I was running a fever of 101.6 degrees—the thought I could have covid crossed my mind. Regardless, I had a backyard to mow; there was no one to do it for me, and it desperately needed to be done. I did a half-assed job and came into the house. 

I was ready to face the music and took a COVID test. Sure enough, it was positive. The positive line practically glowed at me before the sample line even appeared. I broke the news to my roommate sister and immediately donned a mask. I texted my family and let my boss and job know. 

I worked that Monday from home, called in the next two days, then worked Thursday and Friday. A huge, urgent project came up at work, so I ended up working for eight hours on Mother’s Day (Thankfully, our family had postponed our celebration a week), and then I proceeded to work nine to eleven-hour days for the whole next week. The whole time I should have been recovering from covid, I was working myself to sheer exhaustion. 

Which leads me to where I am today. Still riding that struggle bus. My energy levels have not recovered yet. Some days I do feel almost like myself. Other days I feel like I can barely keep my eyes open to finish the work day. Some evenings after work I manage to cook dinner or do a load of laundry. Other evenings, I doze off and on until bedtime.

I’m frustrated to say the least. I had plans and goals for my post-Italy trip life. We did so much walking in Italy, I wanted to continue that trend. Instead, I’m napping a lot. I also wanted to finally add in some weightlifting and other healthy activities. The lack of energy has been maddening. I talked to my lady doc about it this week and she informed me it could take up to six months to get back to normal. It was validating but also not the news I wanted to hear.

I’ll be taking things day by day and hoping to soon depart the struggle bus.