In Recovery

I've spent the day in my room. Taking it easy is boring. I'm used to pushing myself to the limit and achieving what it is I want. Or at least, the past few years have been about that. I'm not used to resting. This forced rest has been a little trying.

I am missing the outside world a little. I'm missing spending time with my boy. I'm missing being able to get up and feeling energised. Glandular fever is so wrong. I've been sleeping an average of at least 12 hours each day. I used to live off 5 hours a night. All well and good, but I'm not waking up alive and alert, of late. My glands are twinging on and off. It is one of the weirdest feelings.

Dealing with an unrelenting ex making contact is also somewhat stressful. Any action is low on my priority list. I guess, at least the stress is momentary. I've learnt, quite easily, to let it become water off a duck's back, or however the expression goes.

On a more positive note, I have been getting a little study done. My concentration span is unbelievably short. I've always been blessed with a mind that works; I only need apply it and concentrate. Right now, it resembles cotton wool. Thick and woolly.