Ten. Ten hours of sleep last night on top of two naps yesterday and I finally feel like I won’t topple over on my feet – at least for now.
Feet, feet, feet. My feet were pampered yesterday. The shop where I’m getting my shoes is really up on the entire pampering feel, all the way to having a few ‘throne’ chairs set up, including in the examination room. Yes, I was led to a blue velveteen chair with a high back and asked to take off my shoes (could have been kinky if the setting were right). My feet were measured in ten different places with a measuring tape, and then immortalized on paper, in foam, and in plaster. They will make three sets of shoes for me in the end; the first are a throw away pair (he showed me a set; they’re actually see thru) to test the soles they’ve made and see how my feet move in them, the second are a trial pair I’ll need to wear around for a week, and the final pair will be the real shoes, made completely from the ground up with a finish to order. They can look like anything, as long as they’re above the ankle. All their shoes ride above the ankle for extra support. That’s cool; did I mention my favorite shoes in the world are ankle boots? After three months with my new shoes I can get a second pair. Then my insurance will cover new shoes every 50 months. My next appointment to try on my set of see thru dummy shoes is set for two weeks.
All I kept thinking of was the stories my mother told me (always with a bit of horrified admonishment in her voice) that as a baby I’d scream bloody murder anytime anyone put shoes on my feet. They must have been hurting my feet. Didn’t stop anyone from putting them on me, tho. For the first time in my life, I’m not gonna want to scream when shoes go on my feet. For reals. Shoes made for me. If feet could creme, my feet would be doing it.
Today I face one task: Heike. That’s all I’m asking me to get thru, my appointment with her. Didn’t even think about it yesterday; couldn’t think yesterday. Couldn’t do anything but sleep. My brother asked me if I was going to tell her she’s fired, and I responded the only way I know how: it depends on what she says. Too many scenarios have played out in my head. If she’s unfortunate enough to say one of the things I’ve imagined her saying, I’m pretty sure a prepared speech is gonna come out. The number one question is ‘So, have you thought about taking a time out?’ which will trigger a long and sarcastic reply including the fact that I think SHE needs a time out from whatever is making her cancel so many fucking appointments. On the whole, I hope to avoid the entire issue. I’ve pondered how to handle the end of our appointment, when Heike will inevitably try to schedule another appointment with me. I want to dodge her with ‘I’d like to see Yoda first, then I’ll call you for another appointment’ or something similar. *sigh* Chances are I’ll end up telling her. There aren’t too many things she could say or do that won’t trigger it.
Well, time to pack up like I expect a war front today. I’ve not been bringing the Ativan and joint to smoke post or pre appointment like I did the first couple of times. Today that would be an error. While I’ve been able to envision telling her I don’t want to see her again, I’m not stupid. Actually doing it will pump huge amounts of adrenaline into my system. I’ll be shaking by the end of it. I know; I’ve done hard shit like that before and no matter how cool I want to handle it (and I CAN keep my cool), the aftermath of doing it will come down hard on me, like a junkie going thru withdrawal. I’m being kind to myself, and packing up my first aid kit to take along with me. No little girl should go thru that alone.
The month is drawing to a close, and the money I have stashed for buying smoke is pretty damned low. I didn’t hold back over the month at all. Still smoking at the same rate. My brother will say ‘so what?’ and tell me to do something nice for myself anyway, whether it’s a massage or finally buying a new game for my computer. Or both. He knows how much I want both, and doing both will be a whopping €45. Not a lot for that muffler (an old and regional joke based on a local television advertisement campaign. I expect no one to get it). My instinct (and my id) say do it. The overriding consideration should be kindness towards myself, regardless of the ‘progress’ I make with smoking or my body or my work. That conditional love is my mother; it’s not me. Or it doesn’t HAVE to be me.
The feel good people of the world have said ad infinitum that if you don’t love yourself you just can’t move forward. Kindness towards myself is my first step in that process. And my kindness towards myself should not be conditional, like my mother’s was. It should not be based on someone else’s (Heike’s) goals. Yesterday I was damned angry at my body for just shutting off completely. My kindness was to let myself nap, close my eyes, not fight the exhaustion. It got me thru my appointment for my shoes, and I enjoyed the experience. Being kind to myself earlier meant I completed my task with ease and in a pleasant manner. That’s a step in the right direction. Kindness and patience inwards = kindness and patience outwards.
The shoe shop said they can do anything on the outside of the shoes they build for me. Anything. I think I want stitching on the outside, like a shoe tattoo. And it will be one word: Kindness.