And the Ball Drops
Three days into the new year and I'm struggling to put 2020 behind me entirely. Part of it is because I brought a virus along with me. Mind you, not the one you’d expect. This Christmas Eve I was diagnosed with Shingles.
Or, as I like to say, I had pox for the apocalypse. An a-pox-calpyse if you will.....
My rash is slowly fading, but I already know I'm going to have a scar. 2020 is no different. The pain may be subsiding, but we are all marked by the strangeness of this year.
In the summer, we learnt that it’s easy to get carried away when you’re feeling better. We saw friends in parks and thought about what our Christmases would be like. We had a glimmer of hope.
As my shingles subsided for New Years, I too jumped at the chance to have a little alcohol-induced fun.
Okay, maybe a lot of fun.
Giphy
As a result, I spent the start of this year confined to the bathroom floor of my in-laws, Mark’s mom graciously leaving scraps outside the door like sacrifices. Similarly, many of us were stuck in lockdown for the holidays after months of wishy-washy quarantine guidelines. A bleak end to a harsh year.
Today I’m looking around my small condo and feeling a twinge of relief. Not because the year is behind us, but because no one is pretending they know what to expect next. We've all been forced to concede that plans can change overnight, and we're all stuck in the same places.
Alas, New Year's resolutions are inherently future-focused. After the year we've had, even the most avid resolution-ers must find that daunting. The tone I've noticed in 2021 is one of caution. Being too hopeful comes with risk, so we're opting to be thankful instead.
I'm not ready to bank on any year-long changes, but I can at least try to find some silver linings. A New Years Day hangover is as good a time as any to get a better attitude.
Giphy
Shingle Me Timbers
Shingles is one of the most interesting and spiteful viruses I've ever heard of. It's also a challenging one to be grateful for.
First of all, the pain is intense. Shingles attacks the nervous system, forcing you to spasm in places it’s not natural to react. My case spreads from eyebrow to crown, and it feels like my head is wrapped in an invisible jelly fish. The itchy-blisters aren't much more fun either.
If you’ve ever had chicken pox, the virus lays dormant in your body waiting to be reborn as shingles when you're at your weakest. It skulks around until you're stressed, immunocompromised, or, apparently, when you’re trying to find the positives of a pretty hard year. It’s the kick-me-while-I’m-down virus.
Luckily there is a vaccine, but you can only get it over the age of fifty. Namely because, as you age, your immune system weakens. Not many twenty-six-year-olds without serious autoimmune diseases are at risk. That said, I've always been an overachiever...
Like any personal demon, shingles comes ready to rear its head when you’re least expecting it. The virus is “being triggered” personified in rash. It's quite literally an old battle your body has remembered, whether or not you’re aware of the internal wounds it left behind.
How symbolic. Just as I start to get a handle on my emotions in therapy, my body unleashes a new inner monster. And I thought the end of my ailment metaphors happened with my dead tooth. At this rate, it will be a miracle if I get through 2021 without becoming addicted to either pain meds or exorcisms.
This year I’ve learnt the power of holding things in. My body has calcified, turned against me, and unleashed waves of emotion I didn’t realize I was capable of. It's extremely humbling to find a whole new level of mystery in yourself. I've spent so long getting fixated on external projects that I ignored looking inward, so who knows what other demons are lurking around in my psyche. Not that I'm interested in unleashing another spattering of blisters, but maybe 2021 is the time to start diving deeper.
Giphy
"You got real big brains, but I'm looking at your.."
The flip side of this realization is having to reconcile that my body and mind tell me two completely different stories. "You need to relax" versus "you’re not doing enough".
Everyone tells me to listen to my body, but aren't both connected? My head isn't barking orders from behind plexiglass. Last I checked, it was still attached to the rest of me.
That means that I’ve either programmed my head to think on its own, or my body is being dramatic. A dead tooth I was willing to overlook - shingles less so. That’s more of a last defence, as far as I understand it.
Strangely, in quarantine I have gotten physically strong. My body has transformed for the better, and I feel like I’m in the best shape of my life.
I'm also covered in pox.
How can I simultaneously be strong and breaking from the inside? How powerful is my constitution to have worked out five days a week from November 2019 to yesterday while my insides were begging for respite? Am I disciplined or tone deaf?
Owl Lisa Kudrow (above) says it best: red flags just look like flags through rose coloured glasses. A calcified tooth is just a funny story when you’re looking for material. A brutal hangover is hilarious when you want it to be. My body is often a casualty to my wit.
Similarly, I can tune-out the background noise of a hockey game to write this newsletter. Mark and I have learnt to manage in a small space by ignoring each others calls, shows, and workouts. I have survived this lockdown in ignoring external noise, but also in ignoring my own decay.
I like to think I'm on top of my selfcare. I go to therapy, I try to take time for myself, I keep my body moving, I give it good food, I sleep, I save money and find creative pursuits. I nourish my mind with books, and new work challenges. I am forever offering solutions without listening, because I don’t want to hear the answer: Sit down. Do nothing. Be lazy.
Shingles has shown me that my body looks out for me more than my mind does. It tells me to stop (albeit rather forcefully) when I refuse to give myself a break.
Looking back I did too much this year. That said, I'm grateful to have had the drive to keep working on myself even if I was focused on the wrong areas. Now I know just how capable I can be while in over my head. This year the goal is to be just as prolific without drowning.
Giphy
My philosophy for a New Year is that starting on a low note means you have nowhere to go but up. Last year I had the most impromptu fun on New Years, this year I ate dry toast on the bathroom floor.
I’m looking at this year as a mini fresh start. It almost feels like a second chance to do quarantine right. To dive into the kind of self-exploration it was meant for, and that I avoided almost as intensely as I avoided the literal plague.
Of course, each new year is just time passing. No January is equipped to save us. Time heals all wounds - so they say - though no-one fatality injured has ever had a chance to weigh in
That said, a little gratitude goes a long way. I'm not thankful for my shingles, COVID, or the challenges of this year, but I am proud of where I am. There is always a silver lining to be found, even when there's a rash line across your face.
