Travelling in the season of recovery from glandular fever, has its ups and downs.

Diary of a chronically exhausted vicar image

I have found the joy of being back in Edinburgh gave me energy in the first days I was here.

I am finding the attention and presence I give to the many people I am with here spends the energy, and I am not surprised.

The joy of being in the company of friends with whom I lived one of the most intense seasons of my life is balanced with deep grief at the distance between us that will be restored again in a moment.

Last night at dinner, I felt tears fall once or twice, as I realised the goodbyes would follow our hellos so very soon.

To be around the table with these friends again made the past eight months seem like a dream, like the work of but a night only. Familiarity, community, deep relationships of mutual care. I am aware of what is only just beginning in my new town back in Australia.

A day in the sun, with much walking around the holy island of Lindisfarne, physically wore me out.

Days of such catch ups and reminders of what I have left behind, the joy and sorrow, the gratitude and grief, have emotionally worn me out.

Last night I slept for eleven hours; this morning, I stayed in bed for several hours more; this afternoon, I have stayed in the lovely wing-back chair in my dear freinds’ lounge watching tennis. I needed to stop, to be still, to rest.

This is but the first of four weeks of travel in a season of recovery from glandular fever, and this chronically exhausted vicar needs to be mindful, disciplined, if I am to keep recovering, and avoid relapse. So, no pressure to be out there in my beloved city every moment – for the withdrawals will allow me to enjoy the moments I do spend with Edinburgh, and with my friends who get to stay here when I, too soon, leave again.