Because here I am at almost one in the morning, blogging before the trip. Why am I up? That is a fantastic question.
I'm good at travel, except for the getting there part. And the night before is totally the getting there part. I've been feeling rather ill for the last hour. I feel like I'm going to puke. I can't figure out if that's because I'm nervous (I am, I am, but I didn't think I was this nervous) or if it's because I'm actually going to be sick. There's a fine line there, and apparently I can't make it out. I also have been having random pains in my head (which I'm sure are nothing, because they were so fleeting, but...) so I've convinced myself that I'm dying. Trip nerves + pain = me sitting on the couch convinced that if I go to sleep I won't wake up and the trip will be wasted and S will be alone.
I'm serious. I think my sister's talked about her own hypochondria--well, now you know, it runs in the family. At this point, if I had to guess, I'd say it was nerves. It has those tell-tale nerves feelings. But you know, I'd really hate to make a mistake. Also, I'd like to sit on the couch long enough to see now how long it takes S to realize I'm not in bed. Do you think he'd come get me by nine in the morning? Too, I'm hoping that if I sit here long enough my stomach will calm or erupt. One of the two. I'm sorry if that's disgusting, but that's what is. I shouldn't eat real food anymore. One night with forbidden foods and I'm up all night feeling sick. Damn the diet, damn the diet.
The decision is now: do I go back to bed and lay there? Or do I sit on the couch and do online thingys? Or read. I could certainly read. I was reading for a while in bed, and that was okay, but I was worried about keeping S up. And I wondered if laying down was good or bad for a brain aneurysm. I haven't yet figured that out.
Yes, there are two really fantastic elements to this nausea: I've convinced myself I'm dying and that scares me more than the plane, and so I get more nervous by the minute. I think. Also, now you, Internet, know how prone to nerves and freaking out I am, and I'm not sure if I'm 100% comfortable with that. But if S has to live with it, then I suppose I do too, and if that means that I write it down, so be it, I guess. I'm not convinced about this yet either. I am stopping now, because I decided I must read. That's the solution. Reading in bed all night.
Wanna take bets on how much sleep I actually get? Precious little is my guess.
Comments
You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.