🌿 Sinuses, Scripts & Slowing Down...well (Sort Of) 🌿

✨ Uplifting Quote for Today:

"Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time."
—John Lubbock

Slowmornings are real #Luxe and I don't take that stuff for granted...  
Also my Mama's Bistro set now that it's been painted after she found it on Facebook Marketplace last year?... A DREAM!
Wildflower Honey on toast, to fight hayfever...
Frozen Berries from #Aldi
Loose Earl Grey tea #Twinings

Today I’m grateful.

Grateful for a director on Vision: The Musical who actually acknowledged that I’m unwell with a sinus infection, instead of giving me the usual unblinking stare of theatrical denial or binning me off (Which tbf I wouldn't blame them for, I'm average looking, a mediocore dancer and a Mezzo-soprano, so two-a-penny as performers go...)—as if illness is a choice and mucus is a moral failing. I don't know how I was that jaded to think that I would be viewed as having done it on purpose... bad contracts elsewhere I guess. 

It got me thinking: in the indie theatre world, there’s something refreshingly human. It’s scrappy, yes, and often chaotic, but people tend to have actual souls. I’ve worked contracts where admitting you had a migraine or a medical condition would be treated like confessing to witchcraft. And while I won’t name names (because if you’ve nothing nice to say, say nothing at all... and also I’d rather not get sued), the contrast is striking. Missing rehearsal yesterday though gave me absolutely painful FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) I really hope I will be well enough to get back to it... soon... at all... CVID is such a bitch, but I am also to blame here... I have pushed myself so hard and so far that I have succumbed to two 19th Century illnesses within the last few months... And ended up in bed for weeks collectively as a response... shit or bust right?

This morning was slow and quiet—which I desperately needed—but physically, I feel like warmed-up compost. No sense of taste or smell and I feel as though I have been kicked in the face... I have now reached that point where I am both hot and cold at the same time, and not even the joy of curry sauce (homemade with Chinese paste, no less!) last night at dinner could lift my spirits. That’s when you know it’s bad.

I emailed the immunology nurses yesterday—partly to check they’d seen my last message, and partly to ask for a fresh prescription for antibiotics. This sinus infection has reached the “yellow goo” phase, which sounds like a deleted scene from The Last of Us. I’ve also asked for a nasal swab, because why not add a little lab culture to my week? The nurse I spoke to is sending both... perhaps I have historically known my own body well enough to know I am ill before the labs come back.. perhaps I described the situation with enough clarity for a diagnosis as it is... Either way I am incredibly thankful. 

What keeps me grounded is my support network. Truly. Friends, chosen family, people who understand that living with a chronic condition isn’t glamorous, and sometimes the only crown I wear is made of tissues. Their understanding matters more than any prescription.

I’ve been binge-watching The Octopus Murders on Netflix—because nothing says healing like true crime and conspiracy—and trying to rest while waiting for my antibiotics to arrive by post. (This is either very modern or very Victorian.)

Currently in a committed relationship with my ceramic inhaler and a touch of lymphatic drainage massage with a Gua Sha can't hurt either right?. #VictorianVibes #CVIDPrincess #ChronicallyIconic #DrNelson'sInhaler #RevolutionSkincare

Of course, part of the reason I’m ill in the first place is because I didn’t rest. Not really. I pushed through. I always do. Because if I slow down too much, I fear I’ll grind to a full stop. And to me, that feels like wasted potential—like a symphony never played, a scene never performed. But I’m learning that burning the candle at both ends just makes more wax to clean up.

One tiny step toward myself today: I journaled again. When I stop writing, it’s often a sign that I’ve stopped being. So, this small act felt like a reclaiming of sorts.

Also, I must confess… I’m in a deeply toxic relationship with my Dr. Nelson’s Ceramic Inhaler. It’s Victorian. It’s heavy. It looks like it belongs in a medical museum. But oh, it helps. I use it with thyme oil—an old-school antimicrobial wonder—and the steam eases the congestion when nothing else will. (If you want one too, you can find them online—here’s a link—though be warned, it will make you look like you’re auditioning for a BBC period drama. Let's be serious I wouldn't have survived past infancy in that era with CVID I was that weird kid that caught measles twice.. )

A few lifestyle things I’m leaning into this week:

• Bone broth (or a hearty veggie version) with garlic and ginger for immune support.

• Hot baths with Epsom salts and lavender oil, to soothe sore muscles and sinuses.

• Resting without guilt. (Still learning that one.)

• Saying "no" more. (A full sentence.)

If you’re in a flare-up, an infection, or just a general slump, you’re not alone. Take your time. Let the world wait for once and push if they don't. The only way we reach more awareness is by being more vocal and allowing ourselves to be annoying as fuck... 

With love, 
 Clare Alexandra

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