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On Writer’s Block And The Frustrations Of Being Ill

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I have writer’s block. But not only do I have writer’s block, I have a tummy bug. And at this point in time I really don’t know which is worse.

I’ve sat down at my computer 3 or 4 times this week (before the bathroom became my best friend), written things and then deleted them straight away. Or written them, re-read them the next day and rolled my eyes to the heavens. Because, really? I thought writing was my thing, it’s what I like to do the most. And not being able to write properly makes me crosser than anything else, which is followed by being all stifled, all bunged up with thoughts. Like having a blocked nose that just won’t shift, even with one of those woozy-inducing olbas oil tampon shaped things.

Here’s what I was planning to write about this week: how everyone on Facebook pretends to be all smiley, happy and shiny when really they’re all dark and moody (uplifting, right?) and FEELINGS. Because Facebook and Feelings make for a winning combination of blog fodder, don’t you think? No I don’t think. It makes for a pile of words that got saved from being launched into cyberspace with one flick of the delete button.

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Anyway, my writer’s block has been further exacerbated by number 4 (that’s my house) becoming an incubator of tummy upsets. Elfie was the first to go down on Tuesday, but wait, there’s a lovely story behind this: we spent last Saturday in London at a blogging event hosted by my favourite PR gurus at Bump (happy 4th Birthday!) and were lucky enough to hang out with some of my favourite bloggers: Katie and Lucy, Chloe and Alice. And then there were the ones I didn’t get to hang out with as much as I would have liked to: My Two Mums, Jennie, Katy, Lauren. It was a veritable blogging feast and the day put on by Bump was super.

But because our children are blogging children ¬†they got on brilliantly, but unfortunately this meant they obviously shared all their germs as the families of Katie, Chloe and me have spent this week feeling rather sorry for ourselves. Woe is us! It was kind of worth it though, what’s a few germs between blogging friends?

So, on Tuesday Elfie went down with the bug and we spent a rather lovely day cuddling on the sofa with our best friends Peppa, Ben and Holly. Those quiet times are so precious, the unexpected moments when you have nothing to worry about save which pyjamas you’re planning on slobbing about it and how long you’re going to cuddle for before cooking lunch. Apart from not sleeping a wink the night before (both of us) I really enjoyed this quiet slow day together.

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She was back to normal (ish) on Wednesday which was good because that’s when I got sick. Elfie was a very good nurse: “Mummy, you lie here on the sofa so I can stroke your hair, we’ll watch CBeebies then you can rest. Don’t drink your water too fast or you’ll be sick, Mummy” *waggly finger*. I honestly don’t know where she gets it from.

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And that’s where I am now. Sick, ill, poorly. I THOUGHT I got better yesterday, even took a shower and a drive to Waitrose for contraband white bread and Marmite. But then something happened to me last night and I sunk into the deepest darkest depths of tummy bug hell again which really sucks because all I want to do is feel normal and healthy again. I want to go to the gym! I want to eat stuff! I want a glass of wine!!

The thing that’s most frustrating about being ill is that it leaves you completely helpless. In the old times you might be glad of a couple of days off work with a DVD but now, I got stuff that needs doing. I need to work, to see people, to parent my children. And I can’t do that when I’m groaning, moaning and feeling sorry for myself in bed. It’s a terrible feeling and one that leaves me feeling so very thankful for my (general good) health. 60 hours of lying in bed wanting to sleep, read, eat, drink, ANYTHING, but not being able to because your tummy hurts too much and the room is spinning… it’s the most frustrating feeling in the world and is the reason I just suck my hangovers up and deal with them these days. There’s no time for self-pity if it’s self-inflicted.

But NO MORE. I just ate a piece of toast (little victories!) and am going to drink water like it’s my job today. I’ve painted my nails, watched three episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and taken part in a Twitter party so things are definitely on the up. I’m going to a Burns Night party tomorrow which I WILL be well for because it’s Black Tie, and there’s nothing I don’t like if not Black Tie. And I just wrote a whole blog post so this must mean my writer’s block is over.

Right?

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