Ramble On

The rage dump yesterday was exactly what I needed. I didn’t carry that out into the world; it got left behind on my computer screen while I spent the morning smiling and laughing in my language class. My teacher is a very kind man who believes putting pressure on people who are trying to learn a new language is counterproductive. We read, we talk, he corrects us and explains things we don’t understand. I feel confident enough in the language to make mistakes (it’s okay; it really is!) and even pulled a joke yesterday.

And my head is making the switch. For the first time every yesterday, my brain used a Dutch word rather than an English one. It was only ‘van’ (meaning ‘from’), but I slipped it in so fast and flawless that I startled myself. Some things have only become Dutch; for instance, in the house my brother’s condition is always stated in Dutch (Ah-Day-Hah-Day) rather than ugly English – which we both tried to do, and you know what? The English was hard to say as quick as the Dutch. There are even words in Dutch that I know and use correctly, yet translating them into English takes me a moment because it’s just a word that I know, not something I run thru my translation filters in my head.

Ik ben blij (I am happy). There’s still tons of words I don’t know yet, but I’m learning every day. I understand more that’s said to me, I can reply with more Dutch words, and I’m not feeling like such an idiot with the language. Yea!

Of course I thought how nice it would be if my language instructor could somehow become my therapist. I like him, I know he’s a kind person with a real heart (saw him tear up when he talked about his favorite dog that passed away), and I feel safe talking to him. Then I think about what happened with my huisarts and how I don’t feel comfortable right now even with her. No. Better to leave my teacher as my teacher. I don’t want to lose another person I feel is a good support in my life.

Still not sure what to do about my huisarts, btw.

My sore throat is better (even there! I first typed ‘beter’, the Dutch word – the computer corrected me). I correctly diagnosed it as oral thrush. Think I might have missed a calling in medicine; I’ve got an uncanny knack at diagnosis. No, I didn’t see my huisarts. Didn’t need to, just like when I knew I fractured a bone in my foot. PUH-LEEZE! Nothing worse than having to sit and wait somewhere for hours only to have someone come in and tell you exactly what you already know. Especially when the course of treatment is just ‘rest’. I’ll get more rest just not going in for the diagnosis, then, thanks. You have no idea how much that pisses off doctors, especially when there’s a fractured bone involved. You should have come in! We need that on record! *rolls eyes* They get to see me once in every three incidents. I’ve got SOME semblance of a life, you  know.

Or I WANT to have…

With spring here and summer on the way, I find myself not wanting to begin too many new things. Heat always does a number on my joints, and I’m not stupid enough to think this summer will be any different. I hope it will be better; I hope an increase in my meds and my new shoes will do a LOT for me and help me get out to do everything available during summer months. But I expect to spend the hours of 11 a.m to 4 p.m. inside, on my chair, just about every day. I sure as hell don’t want to begin with a new doctor and diagnosis and all that shit when I KNOW the chance is high my body will be hurting.

Maybe I’m being a pussy. Weak. Avoiding.

So be it.

I want to have FUN this summer. And that means giving me every chance to feel good, which means no poking around in my head to see what sets me off. I’ll continue to write. Don’t think I could STOP blogging now. But for the rest…Meh! I’ll smoke when I smoke. And I’ll think when I think, and use my words and talk when I need to. This summer I’ll discover myself in a safe and loving way. I won’t push. That’s new. Last time I tried something like that would have been long, long ago (in a galaxy far, far away) BEFORE all my dreams were trampled under my mother’s feet.

Maybe…maybe with my better grasp on the language, I’ll seek out a theatre troupe. Not with the intention of actually getting a part, but…It might be fun to sit in on things, to read the script, to try. I used to live for that. It was my entire existence – the desire to act. I haven’t allowed myself to participate in that world since mom shut me down. And I think I’ve been missing a huge part of myself… I should do a web search. Find out where the closest group is. Find out if it’s within the realm of possible first, before I fly off.

Well, there you have it. My summer homework. Language, gentle care of me and my body (and I remind myself right here and now that my poor body does everything it can to struggle through the pain and problems it has), and find a theatre group. No therapist could come up with a better plan. Now to negotiate the path. Slow, simple, step by step.

Time to ramble on.


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