In my writing, I have had many setbacks. Many many many setbacks. But this one really upset me. Why? Because I had it all planned so perfectly. I’m one of those people that strive on routine, to a degree. I mean, I don’t want to do the exact same thing every day at the exact same time, more just a rudimentary schedule that I follow. Rise at X:XX on these days. Go to work. Exercise. Play time. That sort of thing. You know, normal.

I don’t ever get normal.

OK, OK. I got normal for about 6 months recently, and I loved it. But I digress.

No, I had just finished a crapload of appearances and storytelling performances, and the high holy days were here, and it was just a big mess of do everything at once. The crazy schedule was over, and all I had left was to send out a newsletter with photos of last month, make it through Sukkot, and finish my edits of Inhabitants. But then I got the flu.

I haven’t been sick a lot lately, like in years. So when I didn’t feel well, I took it for granted and left work early. I could afford to; it was just a few hours. But, about a week later, maybe less, that not feeling well came back with  vengeance. I’ve been nursing this flu for seven days. Yup, seven days. Feels a lot longer. In fact, I’m glad I wrote this. Knowing it’s only been seven days makes me feel a lot better. I was beginning to wonder if it was becoming serious.

What sucks is that I finally had a couple of days to really work on my writing and catch up and get some things done, and I spent those two days in bed. No, seriously. The two days I had off I slept straight through. I forced myself to drink and go to the bathroom, but other than that, I was in flu coma mode. I went to work the next day and have been working ever since. Those two days were supposed to be a Sabbath, Sukkot. They were supposed to be a time of joy and celebration and worship. At least I didn’t bow to the porcelain throne during this illness, for that I am grateful.

Yes, I complain, a lot. I’m angry. Angry that I take such good care of myself yet this happens. Angry that I was finally meeting some exercise goals only to have to quit for over a week. Angry I was just catching up with writing goals but now have to spend every minute away from work resting. Angry angry angry.

But I also learn. I try to learn in every opportunity. I’ve learned a lot over the last year, and am still learning. Right now I’m trying to learn that setbacks happen. If I don’t meet my goal, that’s OK. I can reset the finish line and try again. The important part is I’m realistic, and right now, the realty is I need to rest. Reality also states that continuing on my goals is the best option. Once I’m well.

Hope you all accept your setbacks and realize they happen to everyone all the time. Just because the finish line moved doesn’t mean you’re a quitter. Would you fault someone who had an accident and broke their foot for not running their trained for a planned race? Of course not! But if their goal was to run that race, then they should most certainly try again the next year. And the next and the next until they meet that goal.