The cosmos smite us

Almost every day for the last year and a half, I have exchanged email with a friend who is similarly in possession of a differently-wired brain. The brain issues are the commonality that got us talking, but it's our mutual appreciation for each other's thinking that has kept the conversation going. This week, we're talking about working hard and falling down.

Hello, dear.

I think for the next week-and-a-half I'm going to work from home in the afternoons. This is my (probably) lame attempt at scaling back while I recover from shingles. Everything I read says this:

• Shingles is opportunistic. Prolonged stress is a primary trigger.
• Shingles is not only an illness but a symptom of a life out of balance. You push too hard, the body pushes back.
• It is critical to rest and rest a lot while going through a shingles outbreak. The immune system is very stressed at this time. Not resting almost guarantees postherpetic neuralgia.
• Getting this sick is a wakeup call telling me I need to eat better, rest more, work less.

Of course, I always thought this kind of information just didn’t apply to me. Then I thought about it, and I thought about you and us as two people who push the envelope of hard work. Personally, I’m always trying to prove that I am good enough. I always fear that if I slow down, I’ll be seen as unreliable or lazy (or crazy). I’d actually rather work myself into illness than let anyone think I’m not working to potential. Yes, I have always put my work ahead of my health. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?

I wonder about us. Why do we work so hard that illness spots opportunity in us? Is this nature’s way of smiting us for shrugging off the concerns expressed by others? People tell me I do too much, I’m pushing too hard, and I’m overextended. I know this, yet I refuse to admit it could have any meaningful consequence. And then…I get shingles, you get pneumonia and then pertussis. Damn. I go to work after a trip and come home with enlarged lymph nodes on the right side of my body. I hate it when I’m wrong about my immunity to health consequences.

I started thinking about this when I looked at an email of funny pictures of men doing moronic things on the job. I thought, “I’m sure they say, ‘nothing’s going to happen. I’ll be fine. Let me just finish this one thing….'” And then we fall off the ladder. The last time I fell this hard, my brain disconnected from rational thought and it became obvious my brain was defective.

Hmmm. I am trying to listen to the wakeup call. I am trying to let my body tell me what it needs. I was surprised how many serious articles said that rest, yoga, deep breathing techniques, Tai Chi, meditation and other similar activities are often prescribed post-shingles. What? I need to meditate? I need to do what New Age crap? Me??

I hate the thought that I’m not Superman. You know, like that Five for Fighting song you used to remind me about. How will I live if I can’t maintain my usual unrealistic high expectations of myself?

Do you feel smacked down by cosmic health forces?

My friend replies...
It is not being able to exclude people from my world that makes me sick. I don't know how else to explain it. If I am doing my own thing, singularly focused and happy just for the moment (and 'happy' is relative as you know), I'm fine and I enjoy life. My immune system goes haywire when I'm forced to deal with the outside world. It is like I take on the energy of the drama. Hard to describe, but I generally have to regroup (and getting pneumonia and pertussis forced me to do this), and decide to focus again on self.

Your body, just like mine, is saying 'enough, enough, enough.' I think our whole physical organism is so delicate and "sensitive," whatever that word means, that we cannot provide enough of a barrier against the harmful effects of the outside world.

My thoughts:
Yes, I agree with this. It's the whole basis of the concept of the Highly Sensitive Person. I know I also take on the feelings of the people around me, including the refugees I work with. I used to have terrible problems with secondary trauma.

Exactly. I think that my other self-esteem and perception issues are just an additional, neurotic layer that stops me from listening to what my body has to say. And, like you, I find that making my world smaller (in terms of people) works better for me. I just had a discussion about this with my Iraqi client; she's very concerned that I am so closed off (she caught onto that very early on--my psuedo-relationships with people), and really frustrated that I won't give her my phone number or drop in to see her when I'm in her building (often). I drew a little box with by hands and explained that this is where I am comfortable, and I prefer to choose when I emerge, but almost nobody is allowed in past a certain layer of security. She said, archly, I was like Sadaam Hussein--he had a similar arrangement at his compound.

I used to be inherently social, but given the option now, I will spend a hell of a lot of time by myself. Yesterday when I worked from home, I was much calmer at the end of the day. It felt good, and yet I was highly productive. When my work hours changed a year and a half ago, the hardest thing for me was that I lost a big chunk of alone time. I used to get home at 3:30 and my husband didn't come home until 5:15. I needed--actually needed--that buffer time to have no human contact at all. I miss that a lot and I think it has had the effect of chipping away at my ability to maintain calm inside of myself. God, I'm so weird.

I think when it comes to making changes, I am just afraid of something...I can't really articulate it. I need to make some big decisions about how I work, the responsibilities I've taken on, and more. In spite of that, I don't want to think at all. I just want to stop feeling like I have cracked ribs and all of that.

My friend, again:
Maybe that's our illness - we are too aware of our world, our minds and our bodies. We analyze and over-analyze and our bodies take the brunt of it. "Enough" they say, "enough - you're stressing me out. How you are choosing to respond to your environment is killing me," our bodies and our minds say - we get sick.

I looked back on my journal from a couple of years ago. All I wanted and wrote about again and again was to be alone and to be left alone, and to stop talking. Unfortunately, my meds haven't cured the compulsive talking issue, but I am getting really good at not actually saying anything.

Sometimes I think I wear my nervous system on the outside.