Sunday may have been a great day, but I’m certainly paying for it now. Three days on and I’m still shattered and my chest is tremendously upset about something, though quite what it’s problem is I don’t know.
I feel tight, I feel tired and I feel pretty unhappily breathless, too – a great combination for poor K as she has to put up with a very grumpy Oli (for a third day in a row, too!).
I don’t know if it’s all Sunday-related or if part of it is the curse of the project-mention in the blog, but something is conspiring to give me a really rough ride this week and I don’t like it.
I was supposed to go to Oxford today for an exercise sesh with the physio, but there is no way my body is going to put up with 2 1/2 hours in a car and half-an-hour’s worth of treadmills and step-ups.
As if to rub the proverbial salt in, I’ve also not been sleeping at night now, either, which just makes the day-times seem worse. It’s all one-thing-on-top-of-another and I know it’ll sort itself out soon enough if I just keep resting up and keep my calorie count high, but it’s a real b*stard to go through right now.
I suppose the lows are always harder to deal with off the back of big highs, too, since you’ve had that much further to fall, but I’m doing my damnedest not to let it get me down. The trouble is, I just don’t have the energy to be up.
It’s a funny thing, that. Being “down” takes no energy at all – it’s almost like a default position, whereas being “up” requires an investment of energy, even if it’s just a small amount. I think that’s skewed, someone should write and complain.
Still, there’s nothing better than writing a post on SmileThroughIt to remind me that I’m supposed to be SmilingThroughIt, so I’m off to search YouTube for videos of stupid people falling off logs and bumping their face.