For the past few weeks I have been ill, really awfully sick. Not life threatening though, but still ghastly sick. Now I know there are sadly, plenty people in a worse-off situation that I found myself in for a temporary basis but for a good chunk of that period, it feltĀ terminal to me (maybe it was manflu – haha!)

Now why write about something that happens to (mostly) everyone on the planet? Because the whole month of August just seems so strange and I have to write the strangeness out of me. It helps with my perspective.

This flu slapped me suddenly and violently and it knocked me completely off my feet. There was no flu-ish build up, and no warning signs to give an indication that a loony eclipse was going to darken my planet. I woke up on a Tuesday morning and there it was. In my joints, lungs, head, everywhere.

This is often the initial period of achy flu, so I managed to get through the day very sluggishly although I was coughing like a very seasoned sailor. On day 3 of the achiness I realised that my lungs may be infected so needed to bring in the big guns. Okay, it was a doctor and he had a stethoscope and it was around this time that I realised I had no jokes in my head. Not even one. I think this is what was the most alarming thing of all on reflection because I realised that I had lost my sense of humour, my appetite, my good health and the saddest of all- my inner jukebox.

Of course, being a tapping therapist, I eventually stopped chastising myself for getting into this situation and realised that my body obviously needed to sleep. It also needed to get irritated, frustrated, short tempered and not give a damn about anyone/thing else. This feeling stayed with me as I struggled to hold my head up for any length of time without a cushion and eventually the novelty of lying on the bed wore off. I had many guests in August too, but they had to just work around me.

The weeks ticked by and the shell of me remained. My one dear friend suggested that perhaps my soul needed a rest, and after much thought on that, I agreed. I was like a shell of me and had no joy, nor positivity and somewhere deep down, I hoped that this would not be a permanent state of being.

For a strange reason, I said to myself ‘Friday is the day’ so on Thursday I was floating about thinking that that goal is futile and was getting worried that this may well be me-forever. Ironically the nominated Friday was also 1 September, Spring day in the southern bit, yey! I didn’t know that initially as I think I got stuck somewhere mid July… possibly on a plane… over Ethiopia.. or in the Dubai desert.

Anyway, Friday comes, and I gingerly get out of bed and stop. I listen, I feel, I move. Gone…. the dizziness, floaty feeling is gone. PLUS- the music was back as I started humming tunes (getting ready for the shower- may have been a different kind of hum!)

The ‘good me’ is still here, and I am ready… to rock. Okay, maybe not rock, but I am ready!

Bring it!



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