Flat on My Back, Flu Edition

It’s funny how it takes being completely wrecked by the flu to remember that I actually live inside a body. Not just some machine that keeps up with deadlines, coffee, and chaos—but a real, breathing, breakable thing. This week, it reminded me loud and clear who’s in charge. Spoiler: not me.

One minute I was powering through, convinced I could “shake it off.” The next, I was flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, bargaining with the universe for just one nostril to open. My body didn’t care about my to-do list, my emails, or my carefully built façade of productivity. It just said, sit the hell down.

There’s a strange clarity that comes with being sick—the kind that only arrives when your head is pounding and your bones feel like concrete. Suddenly, all the noise drops out. You start noticing things: how fragile your energy really is, how much you take deep breaths for granted, how comforting it feels when your bff brings you hot soup without asking.

I forget sometimes that wellness isn’t about “keeping it together.” It’s about paying attention before your body has to scream for it. The flu forced me to slow down, drink the water, rest without guilt. And honestly? Maybe I needed that reminder.

There’s nothing glamorous about being sick. You’re sweaty, gross, and half-convinced this is how it ends. But somewhere between the fever dreams and the pity naps, there’s this brutal honesty. You realize how much you’ve been ignoring yourself—skipping meals, skipping rest, skipping silence. Like your body’s been whispering please slow down, and you just kept turning up the volume.

Now it’s not whispering—it’s screaming. Every ache, every cough, every wave of exhaustion is a reminder: this is what happens when you run yourself into the ground. When you forget that health isn’t just the absence of sickness—it’s presence. Awareness. Care.

So here I am, humbled and human, sipping lukewarm tea and thinking about how fragile I actually am. Maybe being leveled by the flu isn’t punishment—it’s permission. To rest. To listen. To be grateful when I finally wake up and breathe deep again.

Sometimes it takes getting knocked on your ass to remember: this body isn’t just a vessel—it’s the whole damn story.

So take care of yourself this flu season. Sleep. Hydrate. Wash your hands. Don’t wait for your body to hit the emergency brake to remind you it’s the only one you’ve got.

~smy