In my most painful moments of coughing, I’ll even say to myself out loud, “I want to be healthy.” I have this golden image of the me I want to be – waking up early to journal and run, being on time for work and all other appointments, coming home most nights to cook a healthy meal, work on creative projects, and have a few meaningful conversations with people I love. I can see this life for myself, I want it so badly. Well, maybe not as badly as I want to smoke.
Wednesday at work, I felt somewhat better which Mike, the associate at the firm, noticed, adding, “I don’t like Sick Ben.” Excuse me? He backpedaled with, “I don’t like him as much as Regular Ben.” I couldn’t really get that offended, given how short-tempered I’d been the last couple of days, although I really felt it had more to do with my computer, which spent the entire day defragmenting and scandisking like an Upper East Side lady at a spa. It was weird to think of myself being less enjoyable when I’m sick. Last week on Flipping Out, I felt more in love with “Sick Jeff Lewis” than ever.
I’ll admit I’m a little turned on by his “Type A” aggressive perfectionism and perhaps dysfunctionally drawn to his emotional unavailable curmudgeon-ness, but when he was bedridden with food poisoning and looked so helpless and vulnerable all snuggled up in bed, my heart melted in a deeper way.
Now, I like the sick me, but maybe that’s because it’s one of the few times I really hang out with myself. The impact of this me-time is further intensified by me staying completely sober – I know from experience that alcohol weakens my immune system (that ice-cold shot of grappa bullshit is a gateway drug if I’ve ever tried one!) and if I’m seriously going to sit there in bed polishing off almost a pack of Parliaments in my condition, the least I can do is cut out the bong hits…
The result is that when sick, I spend hours and hours clear-headed and alone with my thoughts.
26. September 2009 at 9:14 am
Actually, I think this is your best blog yet.