I’ve been on leave for five days now, and I’m officially unsure what to do with myself. (I shouldn’t be spending much time writing, so I’ll keep this short.) (Also, I love parentheses.)
I’ve been trying to strike a balance between preserving my mental health and recovering from this last concussion. I have this need to get out of the house at least once a day, even if it’s just to go to the grocery store; staying home without breaks is intolerable to me. The trick is figuring out how much being out of the house is too much being out of the house.
As part of the bid to make my confinement more bearable, I’ve been attempting to find at-home activities that don’t involve screens or words. My most successful enterprise, thus far, has been needle felting, a craft that involves jabbing a special needle thousands and thousands of times into wool roving. I swear this must be the most therapeutic and violent craft ever invented. Seriously. Plus I get to indulge my compulsive need to produce stuff.
Anyway, I know that this is just an adjustment period: before long I’ll find it hard to imagine going back to work. Until then, I have to accept that my life’s currently 50% sleep, 10% crafts, 10% Wikipedia, 10% reality TV, 10% emotional eating, 5% trips to Loblaws, and 5% checking my percentage calculations.