What I learned from my sickness

When life asks you to slow down

Spoiler Alert: It did not come from a “get help quick, fix-it” user’s manual.

It is December 28th, and Christmas has passed. I have spent the last week or so recovering from an illness. The tree was set up (we actually purchased a real tree this year — the first time in 20-plus years — a blue spruce pine from down the road). I wrapped white lights and strings of pearls last week, a few days before my birthday, but that is as far as I got, in hopes that some kind of motivation or inspiration would arrive to help me finish it.

A lovely Winter Solstice gathering of ten ladies came and went. And then — bam — that evening I started to feel funny.

Now let me explain something to you: the sickness itself was not so bad. I mean, a basic cold — runny nose, itchy-scratchy sore throat, coughing, headache, and an occasional body ache or two — with a question looming in the air: Is this a sinus infection, a cold, or is it turning into the flu? I really could not answer that question, but I will say whatever it was, it thwarted all holiday plans, and that was that.

I mean, how do you prepare for a sickness and the consequences that come with it? You do the obvious — you stay home until you feel better. Better being the operative word here, right?

What I was not ready for — and what surprisingly threw me for a bit of a loop — was how my sleep cycle was going to go completely off the rails, with little or no sleep some nights. Any time we get a cold or illness like this, we know it is going to produce changes because it is our body’s way of saying, Hey, now you need to take care of me. And what are you going to learn from all of this?

I really love that scenario — being told, Hey, let’s step back and see what you learned from all of this. And so I did.

What did I learn from my sickness?

The body is complex, but it craves simple things — warmth, attention, love, and pacing. My nervous system was fried. The pressure of the holidays was just too much for me to handle (and add two more birthdays into the mix, and you have a recipe for a breakdown for sure).

The house stays messy. You do the bare minimum — whatever you can keep up with — and you say to yourself, I will take care of that when I get better. That becomes your mantra, not because it has to, but because you accept that this is just how it is right now.

Recovery is not for sissies. It takes resilience, strength, and a great determination to set boundaries with yourself and others. We spend so much time working on our boundaries with others, but how does that translate when it comes to ourselves? Where do we draw the line with ourselves in what we are going to accept — and not accept — in our own psyche?

Yes, I know we made plans for the holiday, and we only get to see each other once a year, but it is not going to happen. You have to accept that before you can get anyone else to — and that might mean hashing out the guilt thing in your own way.

Recovery is not just about the illness itself; it is about looking into the deeper why of what caused the illness to take hold. And that is an ongoing process.

You build back better, and you do not accept mediocre care anymore. It is like being sick gives you a reason to care more about everything. How you care for yourself is a response to how you want others to care for — and about — you. (Say that again.) This is about the value you place on your life, and how you really want others to see you going forward.

Your life looks very different. You see yourself through a totally different lens.

I am reminded of that moment when Ebenezer Scrooge is visited by the three Christmas angels of past, present, and future — and he wakes up one morning a totally changed person. I think they even called that “a Christmas miracle” in the movie because he completely changed his attitude toward life and the people around him. He was unrecognizable.

And yes, you look different — because you are different.

There is something about waking up and feeling well once again, able to function, where everything you see, hear, and experience feels like a miracle you witness over and over again. It becomes more about the Presence. The beauty. The love of the season you are in — right then and there.

Perhaps that is the intention and purpose after all

About the Author & The Heart Center

Renee Guidelli is a writer, artist, and seeker of inner peace, enlightenment, and joy. She often finds herself pondering the quiet miracles of life, the magic of her childhood, and the ways she has helped others become Heart-Centered Leaders over the past 30 years.

She lives in an 1869 Gothic Revival church in upstate New York known as The Heart Center, alongside her partner Erick of 27 years. The Heart Center is a living sanctuary — a space devoted to reflection, presence, healing, and listening when life asks us to slow down.

If this reflection stirred something in you — a remembering, a softening, or a quiet me too — you are warmly invited to learn more about the Heart Center, follow along, or explore a private visit when and if it feels right. There is no rush — only presence.

To connect with Renee personally, you may reach out via email at reneeguidelli@frontiernet.net or find The Heart Center on Facebook.