I do things that are proven not to be effective for myself, and yet I keep redoing the same old thing, expecting different results. Is that insanity? Einstein would say so. But just I keep on trying to fit a square peg into a round hole in the home remedy department. I do well for a little bit, and then I just fall right off the wagon. I have what I’ve dubbed WFC Days – “Who Fucking Cares.” I just throw all my morals, my promises to myself, my intuition right out the window and do whatever it is I want, whenever I want. All recommendations from professionals are put on the backburner and I’m taking my own unsolicited advice. It’s fine, I saw that it works on the internet. Who Fucking Cares. No one is seeing me, no one is reaching out to me, no one is checking in on me, I’m left completely to my own devices, and none of them are good for me.
So what’s the deal? Why am I a glutton for punishing myself over reasons I have yet to figure out?
I’m not sure yet. But I know that my prognosis has changed. What’s going on is no longer “inoperable.” Treatment has arrived for what ails me. I just have yet to head to the pharmacy and pick up the prescription.
Society is sick, and not just with Covid. Sometimes it feels like everyone is under some kind of spell where we’re possessed by something making us just nasty and rude. We’re supposed to do anything we want without criticism, scrutiny, or judgment. And if someone does any of those things, there’s going to be a huge problem. You’ll get canceled. Maybe straight-up shunned from the circles you run with. Only some are allowed to do what they want and be exactly who they are. Others aren’t deemed worthy enough to hold this honor, therefore they must be stopped. What smells off and wrong is deemed appropriate and revered, and things that seem so simple and logical are thought to be weird and undesirable.
I feel like I’ve been asked to turn and cough and am instead receiving the ol’ finger in the cavity.
But there is a cure on the horizon. And I can reach it only if I’m brave enough to keep the appointment. It’s not going to come to me, and I can’t force anyone else to take it. No, the cure is not a vaccine, as we’re going to be living with this foreign infection for the rest of our natural lives. This is something that starts at home, something internal, something where we create our own antibodies to fight off the infection.
We’re always being posed with decisions and choices: eat this, not that. Do this, avoid that. Try this, discard that. Reject. Reply. Say yes. Stop it. One clean-up specialist on “Hoarders” once said, “We’re all four or five bad decisions away from shitting in a bucket.” That stuck with me. While I like to think my station in life (and hygienic choices) wouldn’t ever bring me to that place, it rings true that making the wrong choices over and over again can lead you to places you never once thought were possible.
So what’s the answer? Obviously, it starts with making the good choices in the first place. Be a good person. Find good people to surround yourself with. That can sometimes be a tall order, and next to impossible as we haven’t unglued yet from pandemic status. But one step at a time. A journey to good health doesn’t begin with dropping all the pounds you want by the next morning. It can sometimes take a lifetime to undo a lifetime of bad habits.
If we do the work on the internal change first, the external will begin to transform itself. Once we inject ourselves with our own brand of change, we can expect to see others around us feel the effects too. Societal herd immunity begins with the self. Discovering what are the good choices and actively choosing to make them can set you and your loved ones on the path to wellness. Maybe by discovering the good and socially distancing from the bad will make our home remedies marketable to all humans on earth.
Something serious has infected all of us. Rest and relaxation helps, but it’s time to do something active in order for the cure to take hold.
My dad always says, “The worm is turning.” Maybe the ‘bug’ is, too.