well, it’s been a rough few days. i think i described it to friend recently as just coughing and crying, which is so much catchier than pneumonia. there’s a special irony in joking about not having surgery and barely seeing the inside of hospitals on a sunny friday afternoon in the office, to sitting in urgent care waiting for a chest x-ray less than 48 hours later… we can play the gratitude card of course. the running jokes of appreciating breathing infinitely more when you have a blocked nose, or the simplicity of laughing without breaking into a coughing fit. even just walking up/down a flight of stairs, or enjoying my morning coffee, laying flat on my back without feeling i might suffocate, maybe not dealing with the fuckery of shivering then sweating then shivering again with a fever – damn. i’ve hit an all-time low in my step count, my heart rate variability, and i hit none of my activity goals while i finally hit my sleep goals. my poor little smart ring is mad at me, and i haven’t logged in to check the passive aggressive reminders that inevitably come with those decontextualised metrics. i feel like normal people don’t write a blog about their week of being sick but hey, i’ve had too much time to think and not enough energy to write until now so i’m using it while i’ve got it – too bad, so sad.
the timing of this was impeccable, because one of the thoughts that i don’t really believe is that we must be productive to be worthwhile – and just after discussing this with my psychologist, i am rendered effectively useless for days. don’t come at me for the use of that word because it is intentional, and if you find yourself riled up at the thought that someone is considered useless, i want you to stop for a moment and consider why anyone must be USED for anything. language is important. yes, it is that deep. i’m sure i’ve used this recently but in big block letters across a page in my notebook, i’ve quoted a line that my friend says almost every time we speak: is the miracle of existing not enough for you? welp, at 2am when i am genuinely questioning if i will ever be able to fill up my lungs with air again, i still couldn’t wholeheartedly say no. instead, for what felt like the first time, i found myself repeating something different: i will not fight this. now, in my delirium of sleep deprivation and wits end, i giggled to myself because yes, of course, my body is actively ‘fighting’ and the fever is a vivid reminder of that but i’m also trying very hard not to fight or resent or lament the experience. no, you don’t need to go to work, in the kindest way possible – nobody is going to miss you. you are not a first responder, one week of leaving shit as its always been will be perfectly fine. will they notice you’re not there? yeah eventually when it’s ominously quiet and your laugh doesn’t bounce all the way down the halls but thats about it. respectfully, i’m okay with that.
this line of thinking spiralled into something else as i could barely function, who am i if i am not useful? who do i want to be if not everything i do is quantifiable or observable, if my absence does not cause a ripple in the world but may also resonate more than i will ever know? it turns out, even when it sucks and takes too much energy, i love thinking. i managed to watch the last 50 episodes of Black Clover in maybe 5 days, which is not a bad effort for someone who struggles to sit still. i couldn’t even pick up my pen to draw, but i let the thoughts about a silly little anime wholly take up my mind, equal parts a distraction from the illness and something to mull over. there is a depth to everything, and when i am not of use to the agendas of others, i love to ponder this depth. it’s not just an animated television series about a boy who has no magic, in a kingdom where magic is a symbol of status and class. it’s a masterclass in storytelling, weaving together the narratives of individuals and how they come together, how those threads are always deeply entangled and shape our interactions more than we know. it’s a reminder of the importance of backstories, of the stories we tell ourselves, of the stories we tell others, and the stories we pay attention to. thinking about being use-less made me realise that where i direct my time and energy and attention can and should be intentional, and simply resting by sitting still and doing nothing or sleeping is not restorative for me. where do i find that restoration? in using less.
yes, i managed to turn one word into three interpretations, that’s what you get when you have time to burn. using less in a world driven by consumption feels harder and harder. i feel like every time i stand in the grocery store, i am faced with the same dilemma: i am terrible at meal prepping, it’s like the second i prepare something, especially for multiple days, i immediately do not want it anymore. so getting through an entire litre of yoghurt is a mystery game of how much can i (remember to) eat before it expires. i could get those little squeezy packs for children, but then the amount of waste that is producing is very unnecessary. i’m sure this is an incredibly relatable experience, everyone finds themselves in dilemmas at grocery stores…. right…? the point being, this is a symptom of a broader issue that appears in little ways each and every day – the pursuit of more. oh, i need to record every word that is ever said at training because you never know, i might need to come back to that one specific sentence that someone said 6 months ago to quote it… or i could just draw a gym ball with legs and a bib that says defender, which essentially captures the sentiment of that entire 10min conversation…
it is such a privilege to worry about these things, i am acutely aware of that. the choice, the freedom, the time to even stop and think is a luxury, sometimes one that is hard-fought for. there is a reason why the dominant narrative of our existence in society is centred around being useful, contributing, producing, using more, consuming more. it benefits the people behind the things, and disrupting this would shake loose some uncomfortable truths. when we have the time, space, luxury, to stop and think and just be, we start to question if the way we show up in the world is genuine or just an escalator that we never realised we were on. do you need to catch pneumonia to have this pause? i really hope not.
the good news is that upon my return to breathing and cognitive functioning, i was looking forward to going back to work. as someone who is conscious of doing work that is fulfilling and stimulating, while also keeping an eye on whether that is sustainable or a little too close to burnout, this was a welcome realisation. the idea of going back to standing in the lab alongside a boccia training session, or being out on a hockey field and hiding behind the goal to chat with a goalkeeper, genuinely brought me joy. the spaces and places and people that were once foreign and uncomfortable are now ones that i long to return to, and that gives me hope.
for those of you who may not know, i have a countdown timer that is set to the date at the end of my current work contract. i have done this intentionally as a memento mori (the inevitability of death), which when i put in writing, seems a little morbid – but that’s the point. we are not guaranteed those days and sometimes they fly by without us noticing them. i don’t want them to blur into a passive existence. i want to be present for each one, in whatever capacity i can manage, and know that being there is more than enough. will anything change? probably, inevitably, eventually.
will i be the cause of change? hell no. i can’t sit here and claim to use a theoretical framework anchored in nonlinearity and the notion that a change in a system is neither proportional (change is equal to amount of effort) or parametric (a change in this = a change in that), then claim to be the direct cause of it. but my entanglement will probably do something, my presence will disrupt in some way, shape or form. i hope that it’s for the better, i hope that those ~1200 days are spent well – not because i’ll be able to look back and say “i did that”, but because i’ll have the immense privilege of saying “i was there”.
if you were wondering, at the time of posting i have 1090 days left. let’s make them count.
butterfly affect 
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