More shivering. More fever. More chills. More hiding with the covers pulled up over my head. Really I don't think that any routine illness should be allowed to go beyond one day and one night.
At some point (once the fever had come down) I started to wonder if I was really sick or just making myself sick because I didn't want to deal with anything or anyone. Mind you, the thermometer told me otherwise, but I still wondered.
When I had a hideous and cliched eating disorder in high school (typecast as a pessimistic, perfectionistic idealist) I often convinced myself that I was sick. You know, with a regular illness. Like the stomach flu. That way I had an excuse to feel like crap and avoid any meals that might come my way.
Once I went through recovery-- even after I had been eating meals like a regular person for years-- I second-guessed myself every time I had a regular illness. Was I faking it? Was I trying to fool myself? Was my brain lying to me? Was I having a relapse into unhealthy behaviors?
The problem, sometimes, with having a clever brain is that it can outsmart you when you are not on the top of your game.
Quaker, teacher, parent,