Okay, screw technology. I’m ready to go to bed, and the internet is slow. All I want to do is post tonight’s selfie, get in a thousand words, and call it a day–now. I swear, sometimes patience is more difficult to come by than others. Maybe I should consider becoming one of those people who honk in traffic. (You know who you are.) I never honk in traffic, perhaps because I can still picture my college psychology teacher saying, “Road rage starts at home.” But maybe honking would be a slightly more respectable way to blow off some steam than punching pillows. Either way, I’m taking my upset over one picture’s failure to load quickly as a sign that I need to calm down, perhaps get back to yoga.

It’d probably help if I didn’t drink a pot of coffee every day. At the very least, I could throw some more water down my throat. Earlier tonight in improv class, I was literally shaking from too much caffeine. I’m surprised my eyes didn’t pop out of my head–AH-OOH-GAH! Still, despite the fact that my body was about to vibrate across the room, I couldn’t string two thoughts together. My brain was like, “Nope–try again next time.” Whenever I lose my car keys, I keep looking for them in the same spot I usually put them. I always think they’ll magically appear because they’re supposed to be there! Anyway, my brain was that spot I kept going back to tonight in my search for ideas. But alas, it was empty every time.

A mind is a terrible thing to lose.

I’m quite sure the problem with both my mood and my mind is the fact that my body is worn out. I’ve been fighting a sinus infection for a month now, and I didn’t sleep much last night because I went to the doctor early this morning. Thus all the coffee to prop me up. (The nurse at the doctor’s office said, “Your blood pressure is a little high. Have you had an energy drink?”) Anyway, considering the fact that my body has been waving the white flag for a week or two now, seeing my ear, nose, and throat doctor was the right decision. That being said, I really think our bodies should come equipped with computer screens, at least a scrolling marquee to send us messages. I get that our bodies are talking to us all the time, but I for one lost my decoder ring a long time ago and would be thrilled with even a dot-matrix printout of daily instructions like, Hello, anybody home? We could use some help here! Go to the damn doctor already.

Y’all, I don’t know if you’ve ever been to a sinus doctor before, but in order to open you up and see what’s going on, they spray jet fuel up your nose. This isn’t so bad, but the jet fuel is also a numbing agent, and when it runs down the back of your throat, you can’t swallow for thirty minutes. Not that they bother to give you cup to spit in or anything. Thank god I’ve been so many times that I felt comfortable enough to take one off the supply table. I mean, what was I gonna do–spit in my hand–asphyxiate?

But I digress.

The doctor listened to all my questions and concerns about taking medication and said, “Thank you for being honest.” When I told him I was embarrassed by all the things I’ve been squirting up my nose in an effort to find an effective home remedy, he said, “Don’t be embarrassed, although there is some evidence that some of those things can be more irritating that helpful.” Afterwards, he shoved a scope up my nostrils, took a look around, and said that post-surgery, things looked fabulous. No polyps, no scar tissue–just an obvious infection that was probably eighty percent over. Still, he suggested I take some drugs to get me over the hump and back to baseline.

“It’s your call,” he said.

“Let’s do it. I’m tired of feeling bad.”

Then he said the best thing ever–and I’ve been waiting all day to put it in writing on the internet. He said, “You just caught something like any other person would. If it keeps happening, come back and we’ll discuss options, but a lot of people get sinus infections in the spring and fall that last six weeks on average. [Here comes the good part.] So don’t worry–you’re normal.”

Phew. I’m normal. My doctor said so.

This afternoon I went to a couple bookstores, picked up my drugs, then came home and took a nap before improv class. Off and on I’ve been considering this idea of being normal. It’s something my therapist has proposed on more than one occasion, to which I typically reply, “I’m not so sure about that.” As I think about it now, I guess for the longest time it’s felt like I needed to fix something because I wasn’t okay the way I was. Maybe it was chronic sinus infections, maybe it was a relationship (even if that relationship was with me). Either way, this idea that something needed to change–specifically, me–is what’s been pushing me toward all the self-help and alternative healing material over the years. And whereas I’m grateful for everything I’ve learned and don’t regret my path, it does–sometimes–occur to me to wonder, How much progress do I really need to make here? Just how perfect do I need to be?

(Just the right amount to walk on water, I suppose.)

My mom says, “You don’t have to be exceptional every minute of every day.” To me this means that it’s okay to get sick, it’s okay to try to get better on your own, it’s okay to fail, and it’s okay to ask for help. (My mom also says, “We’re all in this together.”) What’s more, not having to be exceptional every minute of every day means I don’t have to try so hard, and I don’t have to take it as a personal shortcoming whenever I get sick. Hell, being sick is hard enough without the “I did something wrong” record on repeat. So going forward, I hope to remind myself that normal people don’t walk on water. Rather, we roll in and out like the tide. Getting sick and getting better, losing our keys (and our minds) and finding them, expecting too much of ourselves and giving ourselves a break–these are things that normal people do.