No, you cannot be sick

I pray for health every day. Yet when I’m ill, I still find myself negotiating with my body. Just let me finish this call. Just let me get through the homework. Just let me sort out one more thing. Then I’ll rest. And somehow, there’s always one more thing. Monday is a public holiday. I’ve promised myself I’ll relax that day. The bank transfer still hasn’t arrived, so an automatic payment hasn’t gone through. For now, I can’t carry on with the coding work for my website. Maybe that’s my sign to take a break. Apparently, my body asking nicely wasn’t enough. Now the bank has joined in. It’s the second day of being ill, and I feel much better than yesterday. Better enough to go into my son’s classroom and celebrate his birthday with him. He was happy. And I was so busy taking pictures of him that I forgot to take one with him. Tonight, my husband helped the boys with their homework. There was a bit of shouting, because homework with children at the end of the day can test anyone’s patience. I checked that the two youngest had showered properly. Then I cooked. A demanding homework session and making dinner at the same time would have been a lot for my husband too. At work, I did the bare minimum I could manage. Apparently, I was still amazing. I wish I could feel as satisfied with that as everyone else seemed to be. I also confirmed that I’d go to the baby shower. I asked my friend to cover my share for now, until the transfer reaches my account. I wanted to see her. I didn’t want another thing I was looking forward to disappearing under the weight of everything else. And then I sat down to write this. Because, yes, I can’t work on the website’s code right now. But it still needs stories for the people who will come to read and share their own. There I go again, finding something else I can do. Still, writing about how I feel has helped. I’ve spent so much time trying to keep going that I haven’t given myself much room to admit how difficult being ill feels. Tonight, I’m putting it into words. Maybe someone reading this will recognise the guilt, the endless list, and the promise to rest once everything is done. Maybe they’re making that same promise to themselves. Mine is Monday. I hope I keep it. Since becoming a mother, I’ve realised just how much a woman can carry.