There are very few people who want to get up early on Christmas Eve. Fewer still who want to be in the water at 7 in the morning. I was one, of course. After the first 20 minutes, when all the sprinters lose their oomph and spend more time at the end of the lane dilly-dallying than they do swimming, I hit my stride. By 30 minutes I was picking up speed. An hour in and my only question was whether I was going to get into the whirlpool for a bit. The four heads sticking out of tub told me no, go straight to the showers. Once again, that’s good timing. I get the best shower, with full hot water blasting on my shoulder for as long as I want it. Then I have my pick of changing rooms, and zero competition for the hair dryers.
Still no satisfying rush from endorphins.
But I’d taken the time to read the comments on my post ‘help’ before heading to the pool. I determined that today I was taking my last big pain pill. Didn’t think I needed to put my shoulder thru a day of pain and stiffness after swimming. And I’m ready with Ativan. For later, for tomorrow, for any and every day I need it. ‘Cause Lola’s right (thanks Lola – you have no idea how much your words helped); it’s not like I have enough pills to make a habit of it, and right now I NEED a bit of calming down. No need to go off on a killing streak. I wanted to write a STORY about serial killers, not become one.
Yesterday’s … what do I call it? Emergency? Crisis? C-PTSD reaction? Left me pretty shook up. Had that tightness that comes after an adrenaline dump in your body. Took two chocolate muffins, a shitload of emails to and from Blah, and an Aardman animation to get me back to a better state of mind. Then there’s the slew of guilt over just blowing my top like that. Never so happy as to hear from the tribe that I’m doing okay. I always feel like such a shit after an emotional outburst like that.
I’m able to smile and laugh if something funny enough happens. Probably still depressed. I’m not manic, and if I’m not manic, depression is never really that far away. There’s too much crap in the world to be HAPPY. And having said that, all the crap out there makes me cherish what’s good all the more. What a fucking conundrum we exist in. All it takes is one shitty person to ruin so much for so many. And then what do we do with said shitty person? Isn’t that a fucking difficult question to answer. Sometimes I think we just need to cordon off somewhere and declare it Shitsville. All the shitty people can go and live there and be shitty to each other. Leave the rest of us alone.
Ah, well. Rotterdam is not a shit free zone, but it’s as close as I’ve seen in this existence.
Joy. My computer alert just reminded me I’ve got to take my injection today. Nothing like starting a day by piercing your own flesh. Ick. I hate doing it. Of course, I hate NOT doing it more.
So it’s gonna start to get lighter and brighter from here on out. That’s really what these celebrations are supposed to be about. We’ve reached the peak of darkness in the Northern Hemisphere. We lived through it. The sun is coming back. Query: why do we insist the Southern Hemisphere celebrate our time of darkness? Simply because there’s MORE of us? How infantile.
I miss stargazing. There’s one thing I can’t do well in the city. It wasn’t all that great out in Ireland, either: too much rain and cloud cover. But when that wasn’t there, you could see everything. I learned many constellations while living there. Someday I must travel to the Southern Hemisphere. I need to see the Southern Cross with my own eyes.
Why all this focus on the Southern Hemisphere? My thoughts are with Blah. She tells me my ghost would be bored, sitting on her couch day after day with her. Maybe. But my ghost finds its way there, bored or not. I imagine heat, and sweat, and that smell that comes when the earth has been baked for days by the sun. The musky smell of big animals floating on the wind. And the sounds. Calls different than what I know. Sounds I don’t understand spoken and heard through windows and walls. A sun that is familiar, yet different, for the sun is as dependent upon the land it casts its light on as that land is for the warmth the sun’s rays provide. Perhaps I’m romanticizing it. But it is what I think of.
Dare I set that goal for myself? To travel there to South Africa? To see it with my own eyes, my real eyes – not the eyes of my imagination? What a thing to ponder. The many obstacles to overcome. It would be a very long term goal. Very.
Today rain is falling on the window. How different what my eyes see to what my heart feels. I am laying down with the lions. I have a dragon on my side; I call her friend. And that’s making all the difference.