Hitting “Play” On Life (And Writing)

Rest is a dangerous thing. Everyone needs it, but how much do they really need it? At what point does “I’m resting” stop being a statement of fact and start being an excuse?

I’ve spent the past week (since my final shift at the burger joint) resting up. That means sleeping in till 1 or 2, rarely leaving the house except to walk around the neighbourhood, and not doing any writing. But it’s not as if I’m spending this time doing nothing. I’m reading some, I’m staying up to date on the latest sports scores, I’m eating. I even went to a baseball game on Tuesday and went out to the bar last night. Is this stuff better or worse for me than working? As I said to a doctor who called me from the concussion clinic earlier this week – “I’m improved and I’m functional – but I’m certainly not normal.” My head still gets a bit foggy if I stare at a screen too long, drink alcohol, or am surrounded by too much action. It’s a subtle thing – something that can be worked around for a while. But it still exhausts me.

The thing is, there are no goalposts. I'm a sports fan, and often over my years of watching sports I've watched as players struggled to return from injury. Someone will sprain a shoulder and the fans will be given a timeline of four-to-six weeks. After six weeks, fans will start clamouring for the player to come back, and then we'll find out that the recovery has stalled, that it's going to be at least another six weeks. And so it goes until the player finally returns months later. People get healthy when they get healthy; there are no hard and fast parameters when it comes to recovery.

So am I ready to start writing again? I certainly don’t feel like I’m able to take on a full slate, but I'm sure I could bang out an article or two if I took it slow. In trying to force myself to rest up, I'm almost compromising my ability to work. I feel like I’m waiting for the day when I’m going to wake up and feel like there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me, and now I’m realizing that that day may be months away. There’s a delicate balance to be struck between productivity and health. If I do nothing but rest, I feel lazy and unproductive. But if I throw myself into work, I feel unhealthy.

I sent an email to one of my editors today assuring her that I would be getting back to work “within the next couple of weeks.” But that’s, at best, a guess. The main thing at this point is that I don’t know whether putting the time and effort into writing every day has the potential to set me back, or whether engaging my mind will actually help me begin to feel more functional. One thing I have noticed is that sometimes going out and getting out of my head seems to be the best thing for me – as if all I need to do is laugh a little and relax and I’ll be fine. Maybe what I’m feeling is the effects of stress and lack of sleep over the past decade as much as it is a direct impact of the blow to the head.

All of which is to say, I don’t know when I’ll get back on the horse and start pushing this book again. My hope is that this month I can get my sleep cycle into rhythm and get back to writing every morning. Once that happens, I can gradually begin adding things to my plate.

Anyway, those are the goalposts - until they move again.

-Simon