In December I got sick. I'm not sure exactly when it started but I spent about 8-10 weeks in a blur of pain and fever. I lost 15 pounds in 3 weeks. I slept a lot but never deeply. My resting heart rate went up to 110 and i wasn't allowed to even walk for fear i would set off a Very Bad Chain Reaction. And yet... I kept working through most of it like an idiot. My doctor couldn't diagnose it for a while, and I wondered if maybe I was just depressed because of all the things. There was a side effect of insomnia, so once I watched all of The Expanse, what was there to do? I worked, and life was a bad, sad, anxious and painful blur for what seemed like forever.

Now, on the flip side, after a diagnosis, and thyroid blockers, and beta blockers, and steroids, I look back and think: oh, i was really really sick. Something, probably extreme stress, caused my thyroid to go completely kablooie, and I am super lucky because it was treatable and i'm pretty sure nothing long-term serious. But what I want to remember is this: i was certain that I was deeply alone and had nothing to offer, and that this was my personal failing. But in fact i was really fucking physically ill, and living with my dad can be a living nightmare, and these are things that have a cost. I don't know when I will learn to be compassionate towards myself and not use every excuse to create a story in which I am the worst and most unloved version of myself.

Now I'm so much better (physically) that it feels like magic. As soon as I was allowed, I started cross country skiing again. I embraced it like a religion, sometimes heading out twice in a day to catch the fresh snow and lengthening days. All my muscles had atrophied, and i have never been so grateful to feel my body responding, getting stronger. My solo tracks across the sparkling expanse of a frozen lake, through undulating cornfields. Long gliding strokes through my favourite tract of trees, perfectly and hypnotically lined up from every angle - straight, sideways, diagonal. Digging in to make it up the steep hills, no room for anything other than deep, rhythmic breaths, my brain finally quiet.

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One evening I circled the same 1km loop, attacking the same slope, fiercely, so that I could revel in the sheer joy of flying down the long curving hill. I kept going around and around, chasing endorphins, as the moon rose and I was skiing almost in the dark - I felt like a kid, i never wanted to go inside.

*
Yesterday I drove up north to catch the last of the snow for probably my last ski of the year. I wouldn't have had the energy for any of that last month. I came home exhausted and grateful. This morning I breathed deeply in a meeting to find some focus, and just for a moment i was transported to yesterday - blue sky, bright sunshine, and no room for anything in my mind but breathing deeply of the cold air as I skate skied up a long, steep hill. It feels like a long time since I had something that was mine, that I could flash back to, to ground myself. I'm not so great at self care, but I recognize this as resilience.

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7:45 p.m. - 2021-03-08