Day 32 - Sick

Mar 26

March 26, 2024

I recall being sick after my dentist appointment. Unable to keep food or liquid down and waves of pain in my stomach. It felt like anything I consumed just sat in my stomach, screaming in anger. The perplexing part was that I had simply gone in for fillings. Unbeknownst to me or the doctor, air was being shot up in between my weak gums, creating an air pocket in my cheek. Perhaps one of the only moments in recent memory that I was embarrassed to go outside. My cheek was huge.

I was still working though so my lovely fiancé cooked up some nice porridge for me while I was trying my best not to die. It is in moments like these when I feel the absolute importance of people not being alone. I have always thought that the lengths we go to taking care of our sick ones is what truly sets us apart from other species. Our depth of empathy and capacity for being caretakers.

I also find it interesting that I try to hide my feeling unwell from parents as well as my aversion to posting it on social media now. Hiding from parents from not wanting to worry unnecessarily (and of course, knowing that this will pass), and not posting it on the Stories because…well, I seem to have grown tired of it for the time being.

Also interesting was how a few people at work asked if I was anxious about it since I did not know the cause (the air explanation came after a following checkup). I wonder if this is just a projection that is reflective of modern culture, as I do not think any of my actions, nor my thoughts for the matter, indicated a sense of unease or worry. As I just mentioned, I knew this would pass and did not give cause or recovery much thought. I was more consumed with frustration over wasted time and capacity. I suppose this might be a certain naïveté towards illness and having the privilege of being relatively healthy.

It does raise the thought, however: why do I obsess over maximizing time and potential? Aspirations and lofty goals are things of the past as far as I am concerned—at least in the standard sense of it. I would muse that my current lofty goal is to progress through this next stretch of life in a manner that accurately reflects who I am—lofty in that I suspect my values and attitudes rarely seem to coincide with success by currently widely adopted measures. In sum, if I do not find myself motivated by standard measures of success, why does maximizing time seem of such importance?

This question actually slapped me in the face recently when someone asked why I get pissed off when it feels like someone is wasting time or causing inefficiencies in processes. Reflecting now, the question may have been closer to why I feel the need to step in and take control if I find things to be too slow.

I didn’t have an answer beyond positing that it is simply in my nature. It is not something I have given much thought to in the past. There are undertones of duty that I can identify, but the entire thing is relatively unclear. I have found hints in recent readings about giftedness, but it is something I continue to sit with—particularly as I don’t find it to be a high priority in my list of questions.

I wonder if that should change, however, as a top-of-mind stressor does seem to be one of motivation. I know I am chasing stability and freedom to explore as many emotions and thoughts as I can in life, but not quite sure why. And I do wonder if that is the root cause for muddied motivation. It would be a lot simpler to subscribe to a race towards money or status with abandon. The unfortunate fact remains though, that I find that repulsive.

I am reminded of this final note on social media: I have begun hiding content on Instagram whenever it seems too unoriginal, simplistic, or vain. My thumb has admittedly hovered over the unfollow button, but my relationship with the user trumps the impulse in the end.

I wish I could. I can’t.

Anyhow, that’s all the chicken scratch for today.

Here were some photos I took while nursing my confusing pain: