It was probably the toughest times of my life, at least health-wise. Perhaps because health had never been at the forefront of my mind, none of my concerns, I thought I was on top of things in that area. Then I realized that I could not control my body - that I had no say about my fevers. It was just a guessing game - is it going to be 38 today or 39.7? Why couldn’t I just decide that that was it and from then on I'd stay on 36 with no chills? I prayed every night.
Bed-bound and so weak for 7 days (after having had fevers for nearly a week already), the cocktail of medicine did not add to my overall strength. My joints hurt and I felt my muscles disappearing. My hospital room turned into my prison. But at the same time, I would be unable to travel very far had I wanted anyway. In between fevers, I swore I must have been hit by a truck. Just making a move from my bed to the toilet was a mission.
At least I had a comforting view. There was a world out there and it was waiting for me to recover. I noticed that it was snowing a little. My friend said: “Don’t worry, it is the coldest in a hospital, you’ll be alright.” And he was right. When they let me go, the cold air was nothing and I welcomed it on my pale face.
It’s been one week without fevers now and I am getting stronger by the minute. I do yoga and pilates every morning and a sense of wellbeing is returning for sure.
I find it quite unbelievable that I lived 2, 5 years amidst poisonous spiders, snakes, crocodiles, swam in the ocean with waves much higher than I’ve ever witnessed in Europe, all the while perfectly safe and healthy, except for a few colds this winter, and then some flea or a tick in Bali should knock me down. First of all, I do not remember that I would have been bitten. Is it possible to get a bacterial infection purely psychosomatically? I know that stress is a killer and lowers immunity. Sleepless nights due to long flights could not amount to anything good either, but honestly, I think I brought this feverish condition upon myself just so I could buy myself some time when depression bubbled up on the surface the moment I crossed the borders. Was the thought of spending some time with my family too much to handle? Leaving Australia made (and still makes) sense to me. I do not miss it, yet wriggling myself out of its warm charm back into the dark pit of Czech in the winter was perhaps a slight shock to my system, to say the very least.
I miss a few people, the climate, the freedom and the distance between me and a family whom I believe must have adopted me. That brings me to a conclusion that for a 'step-family' everyone is really nice to me and cares about me so much.
I am so grateful for them and I do my best to love them. I can never relate though. I don’t get the way they gossip, the way they eat, the way they control everything from the moment they make breakfast, 5 cups of coffee a day, to sitting down in front of the telly every evening till late at night.
Maybe it’s like that everywhere, not just in the Czech Republic. Yet, the settled ways here make me believe we’re still “100 years behind monkeys”. Even in Prague so many things, foods and services are inaccessible and some people are just so ignorant. I used to think that we were quite a progressive state despite Eastern European communistic history, but now coming from Oz, it feels even smaller to me over here. I dislike it, and I feel trapped because I do not have an 'escape' plan. I don’t want to be running around anymore. I want to settle. With a feeling of safety that I can stay till whenever I want.
I didn’t have that in Australia. I could have worked hard to achieve that, but somewhat what was on offer wasn’t made for me.
I find it quite unbelievable that I lived 2, 5 years amidst poisonous spiders, snakes, crocodiles, swam in the ocean with waves much higher than I’ve ever witnessed in Europe, all the while perfectly safe and healthy, except for a few colds this winter, and then some flea or a tick in Bali should knock me down. First of all, I do not remember that I would have been bitten. Is it possible to get a bacterial infection purely psychosomatically? I know that stress is a killer and lowers immunity. Sleepless nights due to long flights could not amount to anything good either, but honestly, I think I brought this feverish condition upon myself just so I could buy myself some time when depression bubbled up on the surface the moment I crossed the borders. Was the thought of spending some time with my family too much to handle? Leaving Australia made (and still makes) sense to me. I do not miss it, yet wriggling myself out of its warm charm back into the dark pit of Czech in the winter was perhaps a slight shock to my system, to say the very least.
I miss a few people, the climate, the freedom and the distance between me and a family whom I believe must have adopted me. That brings me to a conclusion that for a 'step-family' everyone is really nice to me and cares about me so much.
I am so grateful for them and I do my best to love them. I can never relate though. I don’t get the way they gossip, the way they eat, the way they control everything from the moment they make breakfast, 5 cups of coffee a day, to sitting down in front of the telly every evening till late at night.
Maybe it’s like that everywhere, not just in the Czech Republic. Yet, the settled ways here make me believe we’re still “100 years behind monkeys”. Even in Prague so many things, foods and services are inaccessible and some people are just so ignorant. I used to think that we were quite a progressive state despite Eastern European communistic history, but now coming from Oz, it feels even smaller to me over here. I dislike it, and I feel trapped because I do not have an 'escape' plan. I don’t want to be running around anymore. I want to settle. With a feeling of safety that I can stay till whenever I want.
I didn’t have that in Australia. I could have worked hard to achieve that, but somewhat what was on offer wasn’t made for me.
I wish I could build a life somewhere 'progressive', warm and economically well-off.
I am now ‘recovering’ in the middle of nowhere in Sumava-Bohemia where my mother and grandparents live. Part of me hates it here so much, and the other part tries hard to see the beauty in the stillness. I literally do not need to rush anywhere or do anything at all.
And that brings me to another confession - I never knew how to do nothing.
That time on my hands, the quietude, the structure (waking up around 7 still in the pitch-black dark outside, having a small breakfast because at 11:30 I MUST go across the road to grandparents for lunch and then at 5 again for dinner), my mum’s idle talk, no shops, no friends - that all…. bores me to death.
And dying I am. My shadows, childhood wounds and passivity are dying… I no longer wish to carry these burdens in my heart. I long to become a new daughter, a bubbly and loving one. I am not doing so well. I battle pessimism every day. I meditate and write a gratitude journal…I feel a spark of hope, then I pick up on my grandmother’s nervous energy and latent anger and I wanna kill myself again. I don’t know where I left my contagious positivity. It’s not here.
I am now ‘recovering’ in the middle of nowhere in Sumava-Bohemia where my mother and grandparents live. Part of me hates it here so much, and the other part tries hard to see the beauty in the stillness. I literally do not need to rush anywhere or do anything at all.
And that brings me to another confession - I never knew how to do nothing.
That time on my hands, the quietude, the structure (waking up around 7 still in the pitch-black dark outside, having a small breakfast because at 11:30 I MUST go across the road to grandparents for lunch and then at 5 again for dinner), my mum’s idle talk, no shops, no friends - that all…. bores me to death.
And dying I am. My shadows, childhood wounds and passivity are dying… I no longer wish to carry these burdens in my heart. I long to become a new daughter, a bubbly and loving one. I am not doing so well. I battle pessimism every day. I meditate and write a gratitude journal…I feel a spark of hope, then I pick up on my grandmother’s nervous energy and latent anger and I wanna kill myself again. I don’t know where I left my contagious positivity. It’s not here.
Now I have to stay and wait before my grandfather’s birthday on Saturday when the rest of my family along with my lovely cousins arrive. Had I known that my granddad wanted to celebrate this weekend, I would have arrived 2 days before as everyone else. Not a week before. A bad idea. Dying on optimism a little every day. Before I leave, I must have a plan for a beautiful rebirth into the light.
Maybe the antibiotics killed all the positive good gut bacteria, leaving my brain running on dry.
Maybe the antibiotics killed all the positive good gut bacteria, leaving my brain running on dry.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Let me know what you think, what you are getting for yourself out of this post, or what you are not getting...
Note: If you are concerned about my non-native grammar, you can contact me and volunteer to become my editor.