Hey,
I’m a writer, right? Since I was a kid, it’s the only thing I’ve ever felt really good at. I’ve always been able to communicate things effectively in writing—emotion, information, instructions, whatever.
And right now, my words are failing me.
You might remember back in May, I wrote an email about a mysterious illness that was plaguing me. Well, it's kind of back. Or a version of it is, at least. I’m unwell again and I’ve spent days (no exaggeration) trying to understand what’s up. It’s messy, you see. I was feeling this unnamed weirdness since Saturday 16th and then I caught a cold on Wednesday 20th. Lines are blurred and sources are muddied.
My frustration is thus: I just can't seem to explain or identify what’s going on in my body. I’ve got this idea that if I can solidify it in my trusted tool of language, I can measure it, manage it, and control it. But it escapes me. I don’t have a name for how I feel right now.
A lot of it is in my neck/throat. I regularly feel like my glands are enflamed and that the very top of my throat and underside of my chin are being squeezed.
I also get this weird feeling of fullness all down my oesophagus. It’s like I could be sick, but without any nausea.
My hips and glutes ache and feel slack, as if all the healthy tension that helps me stay upright normally has snapped. I wobble a bit on my feet and feel unsteady.
And when I do move around — say, going to a café for an hour — my head (sometimes) swims. My vision feels like it’s on a slight delay, my hips feel weak, I feel uprooted.
That’s my body. My brain has a field day with it. If I’m not worrying about my breathing, I’m worrying about being sick, or worrying about stumbling or passing out. It’s exhausting and I’m trying really, really hard to manage these worries and soothe my frazzled little brain.
"Well", you might say, "that's a whole load of words about how you're feeling. What's the issue?". None of them feel quite right or complete. Maybe I’d just like a diagnosis. A nice, simple, medically approved label to slap upon my self and deliver the salve of categorisation.
20-odd weeks ago, I wrote that email and begged myself to keep up my compassion and care. I'm trying to remember that now, but it's hard to shake frustration as the dominant feeling.
I've always said that this newsletter acts as a glorified diary entry. Never has that been truer. My apologies if you didn’t get much from this week's health report. I'd also like to say: please don’t think you have to respond with good wishes, sympathy, or diagnoses. I love having this space to speak—your presence here encourages me to keep writing. That’s a huge gift and I thank you for it.
Need a little help moving slower?
Ease your way out of Friday afternoon with this newsletter, a nice cup of something, and a little background music. Steal my setup if you aren't sure where to start.
After I press send, I'll be sampling some of Yallah Coffee's La Limonada—delivered by sailboat from Mexico and promising a lot of amazing flavour. I'll always jump to support a novel product like this, that serves a bigger purpose than just getting some good coffee into many hands.
And for my musical accompaniment, I'll put some positive energy out into the world and manifest my recovery. Fingers and toes crossed that Getting Better by Twin Peaks will rock me into a better place. Even if it doesn't, it's a certified jam. That's a pretty good silver medal.
Take it easy,