Thank God we are still alive, enjoy Christmas

A few days before Christmas week, my dear daughter gave me a cold. One of those colds that slaps you against the head, plants its backside on your face, and digs its heels into your chest. It felt like I’d been hit by one of those clunky Mombasa Road trailers.

Like I’d been run over by a Kenya Bus. If having the wind knocked out of your sails was a person, that person was me. Before I caught the flu, I had survived nine months of the new coronavirus.

Nine whole months of being Covid-19 free only to be floored by a common cold. But if I’m honest, I knew something like this was bound to happen. It’s been a year of extremes and I knew I couldn’t possibly escape unscathed.

They say that your life is always speaking to you. Usually, it’s that still, quiet voice in the back of your mind. That voice that we’ve learned to ignore. But life is about survival and yours won’t let you off the hook that easy. After a while that whisper in your spirit will pick up pace, volume, and tempo. You’ll try to push it aside, to turn away from it because you’re busy. Because there’s a million boxes on your to-do list that you haven’t ticked off yet.

There are not enough hours in the day to do what needs to be done. You don’t have time to stop and listen to your body. So you dig deep and push through, prioritising everything other than your health. Then that voice comes though again and this time it’s shouting at you; literally screaming at you to stop and pull over.

Feeling fatigued

You feel all the niggling aches and pains but you’re sitting there thinking stupid thoughts like, ‘Let me just send this email’. Finally, because you’re being both obstinate and obtuse, life throws a boulder through your window and knocks you flat on your face.

That’s what happened to me. I’d been feeling fatigued for weeks. That feeling that people in the medical profession call ‘general malaise’. I mean, you know something is off but you don’t know what it is, and you don’t want to know. You just wish it would go away and leave you with the rest of your problems. But it doesn’t and the next thing you know you can’t get out of bed.

Now, it might seem like I’m over-dramatising a simple head cold, but hey, that thing took me out. The engine light, which had begun as a flicker on my dashboard suddenly flashed red without any discernible warning. It went from red to ‘engine dead’ in the flash of an eye. One day I was up and about and the next I was flat on my back thinking about all the grand plans I had planned to execute before Christmas week.

As I lay there breathing choppily through my mouth, rivers of mucus meandering from my nostrils to my chin, with hills of used tissue paper slowly turning into mountains on my bedside table, I heard that still, quiet voice speaking again: “Stop, pullover, danger ahead.” This time I had no choice but to listen. There was nothing I could do but listen. It was time to rest. Period.

Every situation

I’m only just beginning to get my energy back. And I’m not just recovering from a cold, I’m recovering from 2020. It’s been one year but it feels like a lifetime. We’ve all been stretched in ways we would have never imagined; invited to step into spaces that we didn’t feel capable of inhabiting.

There’s been heartache and grief, extreme lows and inexplicable highs. Through all of it, I’ve learned that if you’re not embracing life with everything you’ve got, if you’re not throwing your whole heart at every situation, then you’re basically marking time until the end of your days.

Looking back over the past 12 months, I’m grateful that I had the unique opportunity to live wholeheartedly. To find the gifts in my imperfection. To push myself beyond old limits and into new fields of growth. I hope with all my heart that everyone had a growth experience this year, in whichever shape or form.

I know that it might feel like nothing changed, or that things went from bad to worse, but if you survived the year of ‘great un-expectations’, then you’ve come out of it stronger, braver, and kinder.

And so I wish you the merriest of Christmases, merrier than all the Christmases past, because after the tumultuous year we’ve all had, we sure do deserve it. Happy Holidays, y’all. One love.

- Ms. Masiga is Peace and Security editor, The Conversation