I have entered the What if this was all a big mistake? phase of relocation, interspersed with bouts of My life is dull and unclean. This happens every year, more or less – it happened with Korea, and I’m sure it will happen with whatever new city comes after Laramie. This year, though, I’m reacting not only to a location and program but to a medical condition and corresponding cure.
This past month or so, I’ve been feeling much better overall – and apart from everything else I’ve been feeling relieved. Several personality traits, as it turns out, were just symptoms. I’m not absent-minded. I’m not bad with names or numbers. I’m not moody or careless. I can run my schedule up to a deadline and complete basic errands each day. I’ll be fine.
I have felt much better – not just with the gradual alleviation of these symptoms, but with the knowledge that they were all the fault of my wavering thyroid levels. I’m not mysteriously weak – as it turns out, I’m not weak at all.
But that relief means that every slow morning feels like a setback. I can’t just stagger around my apartment at nightfall, or drag myself to my laptop in the morning to swill coffee and gaze at facebook. If I was exhausted because I was sick, then exhaustion is sickness.
And I may have spent so much time flogging myself into action that normal, unavoidable exhaustion is anything but a consequence of a tiring routine. Sluggish mornings are not only an irrational bodily response but an unreasonable demand for my body to make.