Real Life Sick Days

I have never liked sick days. Not when I was a kid, not when I was in college, not now. And I don’t think I ever will.

If you ask my mom, she’ll definitely tell you that when I was in school and would wake up feeling like something close to the black plague had hit me, I would still insist on going to school. “But I have a test today. That paper is due in third period. I’ll be so far behind on my in-class assignments. How am I going to know what my homework is?”

I’ve been doomed from the start. Yes, I did occasionally skip a class or two in college when I was sick, but I never felt OK about it. (Which could explain why I once left a three-hour seminar to go to the bathroom, throw up, and return for the rest of the session. Of course, that was when I was studying in Australia, and it was an entirely different kind of sick…but we won’t get into the details.)

But at least back then, “sick days” could still be kind of “fun.” When I was too young to stay home alone, my mom would drop me off at my Nana’s house. I would bring books or toys and watch her go through her morning routine. We would watch The Price Is Right and QVC. I would build castles with wooden blocks and color some pretty stellar pictures. Nana would make me soup for lunch and we would both take an afternoon nap.

Once I was a little older, sick days meant fending for myself at home. A can of Spaghettios, the TV completely to myself to catch up on those all-important episodes of Fraggle Rock, Under The Umbrella Tree, Gummi Bears, Rugrats (the guilty-pleasure little kid shows I still enjoyed) followed by Ricki Lake, Jenny Jones, Jerry Springer (my older sister’s influence) and then TRL and The Rosie O’Donnell Show. Then I would patiently wait for my best friend, Julie, to call me and tell me what I missed in school – or maybe I’d be lucky enough for her to stop by and bring me my work.

High school meant you were definitely getting that work delivered to you, but most often at the hands of your parent who had been in touch with each of your teachers about what you were missing and even took a trip to your locker to get the textbooks you forgot to bring home. Ever the overachiever, this was always a bit of relief to me. I wanted to stay on top of the work while I could. But I definitely still got my share of The Price is Right and any other tv I wanted in at that time.

In college, sick days meant I could sit around and have a constant rotation of company. Roommates, suitemates, hallmates, friends… they all had classes at different times and were totally willing to stop by and say hi and indulge in yet another marathon of Gilmore Girls with me.

In the real world though… sick days suck, man. I’m now on week four of being on medical leave from work and I’m out of ideas. I’m tired of reading. I’m pretty sure I’ve listened to all my long-neglected music in my iTunes. I’ve written in my journal. I’ve completed menial tasks I’d put off for four years, like importing six CDs of music my roommate in college gave me (I’m not kidding). Facebook and Twitter and Pinterest can only be refreshed so many times. I’m 100 percent tired of television. (Y’all, there is nothing on during the day. Don’t feel like you’re missing out. Well except for The Price Is Right. That never gets old.)

When you’re well, all you want to do is lie in bed and watch tv and have no responsibility. But when you’re unwell, you tire of these things at record speed and want nothing more than the comfort of your office and work responsibilities.

So if anyone is at work and needs a break or a distraction – please, please, please feel free to text, call, gchat me. I’m here and ready to meet your distraction needs. Unless I’m napping. Then I’ll get back to you.

Quarterlife Lessons

I haven’t even hit the halfway point in my year of being 25, but it’s no big secret to those in my life that hitting the big quarter-century mark back in March was a bit…terrifying for me.

The day itself came and went without much fanfare, very low-key (which was fine with me after the past two years of ridiculous birthdays). The implications of it though? Not so low-key in my mind.

Right now, I’m going through a bit of a difficult time personally. I know I’m not the only person going through things right now (not even within my own circle – I wish I were so the others’ suffering would be over), but it’s given me a lot of time for reflection. And we all know how I, as a writer and a 20-something, love to reflect here on the blog.

So, here are a few things I’ve learned so far in this new stage.

Sometimes living at home with your parents at the age of 25 is OK.

And helpful, even. As eager as I am to move out and live alone, I can’t imagine what I would be going through right now if I did. I would’ve ended up calling my mommy crying (uhhhh, did it from work…it’s fine) and she would’ve come to pick me up from my apartment and bring me home to take care of me. Just like she did last year when I hurt my ankle. I would not have been able to get through the past eight weeks of this medical (and emotional) hell without the help of my parents. So you can take your cool 20-something apartments and shove it.

Your friends – your real friends – can help you get through anything.

You’ll learn a lot about who your real friends are when you need them the most. Even if you don’t ask them to, they’ll be there for you. They’ll send you care packages in the mail. They’ll remember that you had that appointment with the seventh different doctor today and ask how it went. They’ll call you one night and say, “What are you doing on Sunday? Nothing? Good. We will be there with hugs and games and gossip to entertain you.” They’ll bring you sushi and movies and spend a day lying on the couch with you because they know it hurts for you to do anything more. They’ll force you to go out to dinner and then to a friend’s house to sit around the fire-pit because, even if it’s physically painful, they know your spirit needs just as much healing as your body, if not more.

A good cry is necessary every once in a while.

All right, I’ve done more than my fair share of crying lately, but I think I had let it all build up for so long, it was way overdue. A good, loud, heaving sob session, curled up in bed with a stuffed animal you’ve had since you were 10 until you fall asleep is incredibly cathartic. Really, give it a try sometime. Just don’t do it for seven (plus) days in a row like I did. Trust me. It gets exhausting, and the finish line of sleep starts to evade you, leaving you staring at the ceiling alone with your thoughts. Danger, Will Robinson!

But a good laugh can cure almost anything.

You know the kind of laugh I’m talking about. The tears-rolling-down-the-face, snorting-like-a-pig, wheezing-like-an-emphysema-patient, entire-body-shaking, drawing-attention-from-strangers kind of laugh. It often comes when you least expect it, when you can’t remember the last time you even halfheartedly chuckled. And you can’t even figure out why the hell it was so funny, but you just feel lighter afterward.

Working for (and with) good people makes a huge difference.

We spend at least 40 hours a week at work. Far more time than we spend [awake] at home. Working for (and with) good people can make all the difference in how you feel about your job. I don’t know what I would do without the caring, helpful people in my company. They’ve been a godsend the past two months.

The internet cannot solve all your problems.

Not even close. You can look up all your symptoms on WebMD and know you have the diagnosis… and still be wrong. You can read every 20-something blogger out there and think you finally know how to handle this potential relationship… and still screw it up. You can watch or read about a million train-wreck lives to make yourself feel better… and still feel like you want more out of life.

 

But that’s the thing about being 25 in the year 2012. You don’t have to have it all figured out just yet, as long as you’re trying your damnedest. I am 25 years old. I don’t have all the answers, but I have some of them figured out. I know what’s important to me and what really matters in this thing called life. The other stuff… merely details. I’ve got my head on straight (although the neck’s a huge question mark these days). It’ll all come together someday. In the meantime, I’ll take the lessons I’m learning every day.

Let’s Get Weddy (AKA #TeamBride #060912)

After almost a year of intense anticipation, last month I finally got to stand next to one of my best friends while she married the man of her dreams. And while she is the only person who can really validate whether I have actually accomplished this item on my Single Girl’s Checklist, I think it’s pretty safe to say I (and the other bridesmaids) did:

#41: Be an awesome bridesmaid.

Like I said, Claire is really the only person who can truly say whether I attained the “awesome” status in the weeks leading up to and on her big day. But if the following are included in the criteria, I think #TeamBride #060912 crushed it:

• Checking to be sure the bride’s undergarments did not show through the wedding dress.
• Preventing the bride’s former co-worker from walking in on her naked. Yeah, that would’ve been awkward.
• Crying at the rehearsal. You know, just to be sure I could do it right…
• Bonding with the groom in a hallway at the rehearsal dinner, including finally getting the gossip about how their relationship got started (and then sharing said gossip with the rest of the bridal party).
• Giving an emotional and funny toast at the rehearsal dinner, when no one else was toasting. To a group of virtual strangers.
• Throwing out a That’s What She Said joke with her dad’s cousin at the table. And he was the first one to laugh.
• Practicing slow-dancing with my fellow bridesmaid/bff at the rehearsal dinner.
• Unwrapping hundreds of sparklers for the grand exit on the big day at 11 pm the night before.
• Totally embarrassing myself, a fellow bridesmaid and the bride in front of her parents by showing a slideshow of our lives together over the past six years. The parents were not intended to be present for this.
• Creating a sobworthy slideshow of the bride and groom for the cocktail hour.
• Keeping tabs on the bride’s mom and dad and their emotions throughout the weekend.
• Taking a massive picnic lunch to the hair salon. And tweeting about it. A lot.
• Bonding with the groomsmen in our holding pen before the ceremony about who even knows what.
• Freaking out when the best man almost dropped the rings down a vent – it has to happen at every wedding, right?!
• Sitting on itty bitty pre-school chairs in the church basement.
• NOT tripping while walking down the aisle.
• NOT fainting even with shaking legs throughout the ceremony.
• Sobbing the second you see the bride at the end of the aisle, on her dad’s arm, beginning to sob.
• Making eye contact with the mother of the bride at that moment, making her realize the bride is crying, and prolonging the trickle effect of the tears.
• Quoting Friends in the middle of the ceremony (ahem, Kirsten…)
• Climbing hills at an apple orchard in dresses and heels for amazing photography opportunities.
• Getting the dancing started at the reception.
• Forcing the father of the bride to come dance with all four bridesmaids – a moment he was supposedly mortified by, but could not stop talking about or smiling about.
• Ripping the slit in the back of your dress to a very dangerous level while lunging for the bouquet, because, you know, you’re single with no prospects and clearly ready for that step in life…
• Forgetting to take even one photograph on the wedding day because you are completely absorbed in the love, happiness and joy of the moment and can’t imagine being concerned about documenting it.
• Crying the next morning, when saying goodbye to the bride’s parents, who insist on making you breakfast, force leftover cake and tiramisu on you, and tell you that they love you and consider you to be daughters.
• Being unable to stop smiling for several days afterward because your heart is so full of love still.
• And, of course, there was the shower and bachelorette weekend…but portions of that are never to be spoken of again, like any good bachelorette party 😉

Even thinking about it now, almost a month later, I am still so full of joy for Claire and Kyle, and so honored to have played such an important part in their day. Wedding weekend withdrawal set in less than 6 hours after I got home, and I’m not sure it’s subsided yet.

Bridesmaids and our bride at the bridal luncheon the day before the wedding.

To my fellow bridesmaids – we did it! To my beloved bride – thanks for making me part of your day. Now… who’s next, ladies??