On illness, social media, and the fear of being forgotten
I hate being sick. Who doesn’t.
It rips you out of your routine, out of life, and drops you straight into bed. I was in a good phase. Productive. Clear-headed. Almost surprised I hadn’t been sick in a long time. And like in every decent story, that’s usually when it hits.
And no, not the romantic kind of sick. No light cough, no scarf, no slow walks outside. This was Covid followed by RSV. Three full weeks of being out. I don’t live alone. So I isolated myself in the home office slash storage room, trying not to infect anyone. Meals were left outside the door with a knock. Too much time for films and series until your eyes hurt and your brain shuts down.
That’s when the spiraling starts. Social media does the rest. Happy faces. Saturday nights. People living. Creating. Pushing their brands. Everyone seems busy, successful, ahead. And sickness has a way of amplifying doubt. You start questioning everything. Why the stress. Why build something of your own at all. The money you don’t have. The constant chase for attention. How easily happiness gets tied to being seen, liked, relevant.
When you’re sick, you disappear. And that thought hits hard. I was close to quitting. A low point.
But even the longest winter loosens its grip. Slowly, the body fights back. The viruses retreat. It’s like a cloud cover lifting. The mood lightens. Thoughts soften. Desire returns. Ideas start flowing again. Everything feels less heavy.
Maybe the body needs this sometimes. A reset. A way to clean out not just the system, but the mind. Maybe we have to fall to stand up with strength. Feel the dark to recognize clarity again.
I’m writing this from bed.
Day one back on track.
Yours Mbb
