Better than anything else

Today, I walked. Headed out and very soon found a smile on my face. That surprised me. Quite a bit. Struggled all day yesterday with anger. At myself, at the world…you name it. Managed to actually talk with T today. Told him what happened and that I would try to say something when and if it happens again but I needed him to know what I was doing and back me up should I come off…well, bitchy. Told him it was a trigger thing with me and how crappy I’d felt since rehearsal. How I wish I could speak up faster! But even telling T about it took time before I could say it without going off. I’m glad I took the time, too. The conversation with T went better than if I’d come at it with anger, which I was sure to do before I actually spoke up. Of that much, I’m certain. Not proud of it. Not at all. But I can be honest about it.

And T acknowledged our drummer can be a bit much to handle. Even told me that if I really couldn’t deal with him I could quit the band and he wouldn’t hold it against me. Which is a big thing, because when I joined he warned me that he didn’t want to see me quitting anytime soon. And I don’t really want to quit. It can be fun. I just don’t want to feel dissed, that’s all. But seeing as our two fellow bandmates are older than us, we just have to acknowledge at a certain point that they’re just old men with old men ideas. I may reach a point where I can say something when it happens and even get my point across, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be able to change their habits.

But, hey. I didn’t lose it in any manner. I spoke clearly and asked for help from T, and got a commitment to back me up. I even got out today during a break in the showers and did my circuit walk. Pushed it, as a matter of fact. Purposefully went as fast as I could. There’s plenty I haven’t done. Plenty. I feel good about what I have done. Which is a big improvement from yesterday.

Heck! I even enjoyed the flowers outside. We’ve blooms everywhere.

All positive shit. Now I just need to stay on that track. Keep moving, keep trying, keep speaking up when I’m able to. And keep asking for help. That’s a big thing for me, too. Acknowledge it; I did really really well. Yeah, it took me a couple of days and it was only T, whom I trust more than anyone so it’s easier to ask him, but I did it. I’ve got support. I took care of myself.

And that feels better than anything else.

That about covers it

I am unhappy. Not depressed. Not really. But unhappy. I am unhappy I said nothing during band when I was blatantly interrupted. It’s bugging me. Although I’ve run several scenarios thru my brain and not once do I manage to address the issue without getting angry, so I suppose in the long run it’s better I said nothing rather than start a fight because that’s what it would have become. Been there, done that. Did not want a five minute discussion on how I was overreacting or some other shit. No. No, no, no. But I didn’t take care of myself, either, and that’s bugging me.

It’s also bugging me that I have to be the one to come up with a way to address this rather than just taking it head on. It’s a trigger thing with me, you know? Happened SO much and SO often in my past that I just see red when it occurs. But, as a woman, I know full well that I have to come up with some non-angry way to bring it up and hold them responsible. Sad truth is I don’t think I can do it without being angry. But if I don’t find a way, it will just keep on happening because Goddess forbid that a couple of old men should actually change the way they diss women!

Oh, I feel the need to hit something. Hard.

Should probably get up and walk. Fresh air, movement, all that shit. I’d like to feel okay today. Not unhappy or triggered or anything like that. Just calm and relaxed. Too wound up for that, tho.

This long covid shit – if that’s what it is – is not fucking helping me, either. Goddess! I walk for an hour and I feel it in my feet and my knees and my hips. Don’t walk and I feel it all over, too. Still getting breathless WAY too easy. I worked up a sweat and was breathing hard just taking down and putting away my clean laundry. No reason for it, but there it was. I can’t seem to build any strength. No, I haven’t been breaking any exercise records, but I have been moving fairly steadily and I still get breathless and hurt way too much. It’s really effing discouraging.

*sigh* The job front isn’t helping me, either. Turned down for a nothing job! Geez, could I be made to feel less than I do today? Don’t think so. And how, I ask you, am I suppose to find a job when I can’t even take down my laundry without becoming out of breath?

I am less than a slug. I am the slime a slug leaves behind.

Yep. That about covers it.

Tomorrow it is

Went out and bought two knee supports. I haven’t had to wear them since I lived in Ireland, but now… *sigh* Let me try to put a positive spin on it. I’ve felt so good for so long that I forgot what wearing all those braces felt like. Happy I bought them. Had band last night and was fully wrapped up: both knees wrapped and both wrists supported as well. Took the wrist bands off to play, but I wore them on the metro. The knee supports kept me pretty steady. So steady, as a matter of fact, that I burst out laughing at myself because all I could do was this small little bop behind my keys. Took the time to take a couple of big stretches before I sat on the toilet and finally was able to stand up without grabbing onto the doorknob. All in all, a good night as far as my physical self went. My mental self was really bothered when the drummer cut me off mid-sentence, changed the topic entirely, and took over the conversation. I didn’t say anything, but it was blatant. To me, at least. This is not the first time I’ve felt dissed by him. Trying to not cause problems, but it’s wearing on me. And it ain’t like I’m a big talker at rehearsal. I’m not. Also, UGH! I enjoy what I can but we don’t play one song I have or want in my collection. Not a one. The songs I have suggested have been vetoed by our guitarist and I’m just tired of thinking, suggesting, and getting shot down so I’m not suggesting anything anymore. The stuff I like they could never play. So I don’t even ask. At this point, I’m just looking at it as an occasional night out singing and playing.

Oh. And they set a ‘gig’ date. For the end of June, for one hour, at our rehearsal space. Wow. I am so unimpressed. And I played in front of an Irish men’s room door.

Yeah. So the supermarket got back to me to tell me they didn’t hire me because of my answer in that blank spot. You know; the thing I was worried about. Yeesh. Been doing searches on the many supermarkets in our area. That’s easier than trying to find something in my area on a job site. I’ll find something in the neighbourhood first. Make my commute easy.

Still doing what I can to build up strength. Thought I was doing pretty well, but last night as I hauled my keyboard back to our rehearsal space I was breathless as all fuck. Again. Keep telling myself I’ll get there. But last night was discouraging. I feel so weak. Also, can I say the internet does its best to make me feel even worse? I was out on YouTube yesterday and a vid popped up on my screen as a possible watch. Topic? Why women can’t loose belly fat after menopause. Oh, fuck right off! Yes, we can. Maybe it’s tougher than when we were 20, but we CAN do it. Fuckers. I swear that one came up on my feed just to make me feel bad.

Took a very overdue shower. Man!! When my hair gets weighed down by water the ends are below my butt crack. Well below. Little wonder I’ve had to watch it more on the toilet. Coming pretty close to peeing on my own hair at times. It’s already a challenge when I have to bend over to clean the WC or deal with the garbage. Naturally, my hair falls right where I don’t want it to fall. In other words: into the toilet or down into the garbage bin. Gross.

Still have to take care of the hoover issue. I’ll try to get out tomorrow. Head downtown to look at the bigger stores.

Today I’m effing off. The weather isn’t great and I’m still tired from band. Tomorrow is supposed to be drier, brighter, warmer, and less windy.

So tomorrow it is.

Hang out and chill

Well, I’ve stumped my fysiotherapist. The stiffness I feel around my tailbone during band rehearsal is a big question mark. He doesn’t know why I feel so bad but he’s given me a few suggestions to deal with it. I’m blaming long covid.

Coming back, I passed a hipster dude who was riding a motorized scooter down a walking path. I shook my head at him and just said ‘not cool, mr hipster dude’. He stopped the scooter and screamed at me, telling me he’d take my head off. Really no idea WTF. I didn’t scream at him and the worst thing I did was call him a hipster [and honestly, if he wasn’t a hipster, he shouldn’t wear his beard in that fashion because it screamed hipster]. And he was probably 20-30 years younger than me. I half expected a physical confrontation because it was so bad and so just out of the blue. I flipped him off and kept walking. Fuck him and his fucking scooter. Rotterdam has shit loads of actual bike paths all laid out in red pavement so they’re easy to see. A lot of walkers use them because they’re convenient and flat, but I take the long way around and always use the pavement. But motorized fucking scooters do not belong on bike paths, much less walking paths. I hope he fucking falls and breaks every fucking bone in his shit hole body. I hope someone else ‘takes his head off’ like he threatened me.

Now. Ask me if I feel comfortable going out around my flat today. Answer: no, I do not. At all.

Took my mood pills and figure I’ll just stay inside until the last of that anger/fear reaction goes away. You know…. I don’t want anything to happen. I’ve told myself over and over that if something does happen, I should just let it happen. Not fight back. Take the hits and file a police report. But I don’t know that that’s the way it’ll go down. I’ve never been one to curl up and just take it. Even when my ex hit me, I didn’t just curl up. I hit back. I screamed. I fought. So I’ve always got a bit of worry that I’ll automatically fight back and actually hurt someone. Yes, I have that concern even at my age and even when the people confronting me are decades younger than I am. I don’t fuck around in cases like that. I go for the the eyes, the throat, the groin. I aim to hurt. So I’m worried that something will happen and I will end up hurting someone and that will affect (negatively) my residency. And negatively affecting my residency is my only concern. Maybe if I were a better person I’d actually worry about whoever I had to fight. But I’m not. If I get into it with a shithole, they deserve whatever they walk away with.

Grrr. Obviously my anger is still up.

I think I’ll put on some comedy to help shake me out of this. It won’t hit our high of 17C ’til later this afternoon. Time to hang out and chill.

Keep it small

Dr T is fairly certain I’m suffering from long covid. As he put it, it shouldn’t be that surprising, considering I had two infections. He’s encouraging me to keep walking, keep trying to up my strength and endurance. Gods, it isn’t easy. My body feels twice as heavy. Everything hurts.

But I’m doing it. Got out today for another hour. And I’m a little bit less pained today than I was five days ago, so I’m hoping that’s a good sign. Still get really, really breathless when walking. I huff and puff and can barely stop gasping, and I’m not even walking all that fast. Every once in a while I get dizzy, too. It’s fast, and I haven’t fallen from it. But it’s a bit of a pain. Hoping that will go away as I gain back my health.

So my keyboard is in for repairs. It may be three weeks before I see it again. He’s just that busy. That means I get to use the replacement keyboard at our rehearsal space. Cool. It works and usually I can find at least one sound to use quickly.

Got the battery for my phone replaced. Hurrah! It barely held for 24 hours with nothing used at all. I’d charge it up one day and the next, when I checked it, it was dead. I really hate mobile phones. I think they’re awful. Awful sound quality. Even on a regular call, the voices cut in and out. And if I want to surf the ‘net, I’ll do it on my computer with a larger screen and keyboard. Nothing I hate more than seeing everyone with their noses in their phones. There is NOTHING so important that I have to be in contact with the world 24/7. Absolutely nothing. *sigh* Anyway. Now I can put my CV out there and feel confident my phone won’t die willy-nilly on me every single time I need it.

Got over my guilt about my uncle and not going back to the states for his funeral. It took a couple weeks of beating myself up, but I finally got there.

Still have loads of people I need to write to. Haven’t done that yet. But I’ve just been too bone tired to do it.

You’d think the temps outside were much higher than they are. People are dumb. As soon as there’s a sunny day that isn’t freezing, everyone pushes it like spring is really here. And maybe it is, but we still woke up with 2C this morning and a wind chill of 3 below. I passed by people wearing shorts out there. Granted: quite often it’s shorts of a runner, but shorts nonetheless. Feeling like it’s 3 below is too damned cold for that. Put something on your legs. And your heads! Geez!

And because people are dumb, everyone is sick. T’s two students called off this week because of illness. The amount of coughing, snorting and sneezing on the metro is frightening. Everybody sounds like they got something wrong with them.

Here in NL, Wilders is still trying to coordinate a working government. He just can’t get enough supporters to do anything. I’m thrilled by that. If only the US did things the way we do here! Trump could win yet not rule at all because he just can’t get a large enough percentile of supporters to make up a working cabinet. Everyone on this side of the pond is mentally prepping for the worst come November. Can’t say I blame them. Even when Trump isn’t in office he’s causing problems, like stalling out the border solution Biden worked on. Makes me think that the only thing Americans want is a bit of chaos. Enough to entertain them, at least. And…well, there’s no one like Trump to ‘entertain’, is there? Even I skim through articles online that talk about his outrageous behaviour. Biden is more apt to make me sleepy. But that’s a really lousy reason for voting someone into office. If anything, you want your politics boring. It’s called consistency. Your people and your allies can count on you acting a certain way. Let’s face it: if Trump gets in again, he’s pulling out of NATO. I think that’s a for sure move. Not good for the rest of us. I honestly don’t think Putin will march on the EU, but I could be wrong. And it isn’t like Putin is the only one we gotta worry about. We have quite a few hard right wingers right now. They could turn at any moment and invade their neighbours if they felt justified.

And then there’s climate change. You know, I really don’t get it. Most thinking people agree now that climate change is a thing and we’re experiencing it. Not everyone agrees that people have anything to do with it, and that’s okay. There are some things we CAN agree on. For instance, I think many people realise we have a big garbage problem. Everything is full up. The ocean is a huge garbage dump. The western world just ships everything off and likes to forget about it. But the garbage is still there. Yet here we are, in an age where having coffee the way coffee has been made for forever is now unpopular. Instead, we are encouraged to buy these little damned cups filled with what I can only assume is a chemical laden heavy espresso that your new machine (because a regular old coffee pot isn’t good enough anymore) makes. Yuck. If you want coffee, make coffee, not some chemical crap. Now, let me ask you this: how many of those stupid little cups (made of foil) are now in our litter? I’m guessing quite a bit over here. Seems like everyone has those idiot ‘coffee’ machines. If we already have a garbage problem, shouldn’t we look only at new products that don’t contribute to that problem? But no one talks about that! Oh, no. Just how good the chemicals taste in a coffee cup or how convenient it is. I used one of those once. It made so much noise it was awful. Like if someone else was sleeping in your flat you couldn’t use it or it would wake them up loud. In other words, really loud. So you want me to trade a really loud machine for my quiet coffeemaker. You want me to give up wonderful, natural coffee made with an unbleached filter so it’s 100% recyclable for this waste generated chemical laden cup of crap. Um…no thanks. Why is this even allowed on the market? Why would anyone buy it? You’re perfectly able to make one cup of coffee in a regular old coffeemaker if that’s all you want.

I know, I know. The answer? I already said it: people are stupid. Honestly, I’m sad to live in this age. Sad to see how few people really care about the planet. Sad to discover, over and over, how few people have a brain in their heads. How do you do it? How do you live, or keep a job? I don’t understand. And that makes ME feel stupid, and I KNOW I’m not, but everything gets muddled until I just throw my hands up and light up another bowl because I’ll never get it. I give up on trying to understand other people, or figure out why they can’t grasp the most obvious things.

Now I feel bad. Again. I don’t want to live through what’s happening to the planet. I already dreamt it: the fires, the screaming, the violence. No. I do not want to have to do that IRL. The dream was bad enough.

I’ll just put my blinders on and do my best to ignore all the stuff that makes me feel bad. …No, that isn’t true. I’ll do my best to not dwell on it, but it isn’t like I can get away from it. Best thing to do is make my world small again. Me, me, me. Walking, working. Small steps forward. Progress. Always aim for progress. Ignore bigger stuff because it isn’t like there’s much you can do about it, Beeps. Keep it small.

Me

I really hate it when people belittle my pain. Got it last night from our drummer. Yeah. I know he’s 10 years my senior and we all know about his health issues. But that doesn’t give him the right to poo-poo what I go through. Every rehearsal, I get so stiff and sore it becomes difficult to sit down or get up. Hell! By the time we break in the middle for a bit of coffee and I go to the toilet, I have to use the door handle on the john to get up off the toilet because I’m too stiff to just stand up! I don’t say these things because the band has shown in the past they really don’t give a fuck. I just quietly deal with it. But I will not put up with slights about what I have to go through. Rehearsal is tough on me, even without hauling my keyboard around.

But no one other than my docs has ever really believed me on that shit. I just don’t look sick. I don’t look as old as I am. And I have a lifetime of holding myself through a lot of pain so I don’t look like I’m in pain. Only my docs, who have seen my x-rays and blood work, believe me when I talk about my pain. And I’ve been cut off untold times when I do finally talk about it because then I ‘talk about it too much’. Well, welcome to my world! Do you really think I’m pain free most of the time because I don’t say anything? You’re wrong, wrong, wrong. Usually I have pain somewhere and it’s just not worth talking about because I always have pain.

I think T is a bit miffed with me. He wants me to go to a mall with him. We talked about going today, but I slept in late and I just want to rest. Gonna set an alarm for tomorrow so I can get up early and we can just go. I don’t really want to go, but I don’t want to not go, either. So I’ll drag myself there with him and do my best to put on a good face.

Been dealing with a feeling of guilt. Guilt over not flying back to the US for my uncle’s service. I shouldn’t. When dad died, my responsibility to the family went with him. No one held anything over me. I owed no one anything. But I feel guilty for not going. And it isn’t like I really could. Oh, the money is there. I could squeeze that. But when I can’t get going the day after band rehearsal because I’m so damned stiff, flying for 8 hours in a small seat on a commercial flight just sounds awful. There isn’t enough paracetamol in the world. And then there’s the issue of all my meds. How can I keep my meds properly stored? Will they allow all these meds in the US? Plus, I’ve been out of the states for decades. They’d delay me as a matter of course. And how could I eat what they call food? Yuck. I’d feel sick to my stomach, I’d be hurting after that plane ride, I may be detained for questioning, and most of the fam could give a fuck if I was there or not.

I’ve gone through that list over and over and I’m still struggling with guilt.

Still got a couple of weeks before I see Dr T again. Why do my crises always happen during our breaks? It’s similar to me always getting extreme pain or problems over the weekend or during holidays. By the time I see Dr T I’ll probably have talked myself into a better place. I may even forget to mention it to him. But right now, I could use a bit of outside encouragement. Someone to tell me there’s no reason for me to feel guilty. Instead I gotta struggle on my own.

GODDESS I’M SICK OF MYSELF AND MY PROBLEMS! I AM SICK OF REPEATING MYSELF. I AM SICK OF DEFENDING MYSELF. I AM SICK OF HOW EASILY I PICK UP GUILT NO MATTER WHAT. I AM SICK OF ALL THESE REPEATING PATTERNS. SICK. TO. DEATH.

And it isn’t like I’m stupid enough to wish another life on me. No. I know there is no life without problems. I’d just like a break from my own problems, you know? Like a holiday from my shit. No pain, no stiffness, no guilt, no worries. No fucking repetitions, either. Not coming out of my mouth and not occurring in my life.

That would be… I don’t know. Honestly don’t know. I can say the words, maybe even envision it. But my experience tells me it isn’t real. I’d probably be in deep denial about it. Constantly be worried because I’d expect to be hit with everything at once. That sounds like me.

Be okay with it

They’re fucking with you this morning. Let it go.

Wise words from T. First, my phone is dead. A real pain in my ass, especially since these days it seems to hold a charge for only 24 hours. Even more so as I needed it to sign in to a portal this morning so I could order my injections, which I’m late doing. But of course it’s effed. I don’t know if I hit a wrong button or what, but at the moment the hospital where my rheumatologist is tells me I can’t do anything on their site. So either the Uni is effing with me or they ‘updated’ their software and it’s a bust.

Plus, I can’t get thru to anyone about getting a cortisone shot.

My shoulder is pretty good. As long as I keep it warm, take my paracetamol and edibles, and don’t use it or move my head or breathe too deeply. Break any of those caveats and I’ve got problems. Enough to make me call out ‘damn’ or ‘fuck’ when it seizes up on me. It snaps or pops a couple of times a day (down from half a dozen a day) and freezes on me every other day or so to the point where I can’t raise my arm above my head. So it’s better, just not great. And I don’t think I can get it any better than it is without help.

Needless to say, it doesn’t look good for band rehearsal tomorrow. T rode me until I emailed the repair guy about a sticking key on keyboard. It’s just one note, but of course I’m bloody well using it right now. Crossing my fingers we’ll hear from him this week so we can plan to take it in. After it’s fixed, T wants to pay to store my keyboard at the rehearsal space so I don’t have to lug it around. I’m sure that’s what happened. I hurt my shoulder over the months carting my keys around. Now I can’t unhurt it without help. And my fysiotherapist visit making me hurt more than what I felt before our appointment makes me positive it’s my RA and not a muscle thing. Gods.

I’ve tried my rheumatologist a couple of times already. The first time I had 4 people waiting ahead of me. The second time was better, with only 1 person ahead of me waiting. But then I suddenly had to go to the toilet and when I called back there was again multiple people waiting ahead of me.

Happy new year. At least I’m not in Japan. Seems the gods don’t like Japan lately. Earthquakes, tsunami warnings and now a plane on fire. Dude! Here, we had our usual problems with fireworks. Fireworks going off early, harming people’s eyes or burning them. Add to that a certain small faction that wanted to do nothing but pelt first responders with heavy fireworks. As if their jobs aren’t stressful enough! We had heavy rain on the night, so we didn’t have too many fire problems. Even the fireworks didn’t go on all night long because of the rain. Everybody went to bed early. Of course, that means I get the scare of my life now when the unused fireworks are set off at arbitrary moments. Geez! The people across the street bought some REAL loud bangers this year. The kind that shocked me out of a sleepy daze and made me sit up in bed. I like the big flowers and spouting showers stuff. The bangers just startle me. And that hurts my shoulder.

Oh, how I wish rest would fix me. How I wish to not have this disease. I know it began when I was a kid. By the time I was 10, my hands swelled up if I applauded. Then when I was 14 I woke up with my hands totally frozen. Couldn’t move them at all. At 16 I fell trying to get out of bed because my knees suddenly wouldn’t support me. C was well aware I had RA. She even told me as much as these symptoms began to present themselves more and more. But she actively discouraged me from seeking help for it. Maybe the treatment options were poor. Maybe she didn’t want me to get the mindset that I was somehow disabled. Or maybe she didn’t want to pay the bills for it. Or she simply thought of me as an extension of herself and since she didn’t have it too bad, I wouldn’t have it too bad. I honestly don’t know. I tend to give her the benefit of the doubt. That her reasons were coming from a place of care for me. But it’s hard sometimes. Like today.

Today we’re having homemade sate. YUM! T marinates the meat for days. Our sate is so over the top sate it really spoils us. Nothing can compare to it. But that’s true of so much of our food! Part of me doesn’t want to say anything because so many people are without food at all and it sounds like I’m crowing. That’s not where this is coming from. This is coming from an absolute awestruck feeling at how good food can be. No fillers. Pure ingredients. Real food. WOW! The chickens here don’t have any ‘dark’ meat. Oh, we can – and DO – buy the wings and thighs, but the meat itself is as white as the breast. That dark stuff? That’s because Americans don’t allow their chickens to move around and the blood vessels all break. Gross. Just knowing there are hundreds of food fillers and ‘non toxic food additives’ that America allows and the EU doesn’t makes me happy. Not for Americans. No. I feel bad for you. But I’m happy for me. Thankful to be here. What a difference!

Ah. I’ve dithered on long enough that now it’s time to try my doc again. Boy, I hate using phones. I hate the long waits, the automatic responses, and hearing the phone ring. And ring. And ring. My rheumatology dept does NOT use any music on the call waiting and it’s a thousand times more awful than some horrid song redone as Muzak.

Might not be able to get anything done today. Be okay with it, Beeps. Breathe and just…be okay with it.

Thank you, ghost

BANG!

For two nights, loud noises have issued from somewhere in our flat. Neither T nor I know from where, but we’ve both heard it. In the morning there is zero evidence of anything falling or moving, but at night it’s there. We both refuse to install those damned cameras. But we’re also both figuring that it might be our ghost. With such loud bangs and absolutely no evidence of the noise, it’s our best guess. We’re both well acquainted with noise coming from downstairs, and this isn’t that. Last night was quiet. Maybe it’s over for now.

Rotterdam is expecting snow sometime today. Not really big news when all around us has been blanketed by deep snow, but enough news for this fair city that I felt I should mention it. If it falls, it will be the first snowfall of the year for us.

Got my corona vaccination yesterday. Yippee! Now I’m watching my health to make sure I’m over the damned vaccination. Yeah, I’m one of those pesky people who often times falls ill from a damned vaccine because my health isn’t strong enough to fight off even the weakened virus. I’ve all weekend to heal.

Wow. So out of absolute boredom, I’ve watched 1883 on our system. What a white wash! Same can be said for 1923. I won’t bother with Yellowstone. I’ve seen enough ‘don’t blame us!’ from what I’ve watched thus far. Geez! Don’t blame us for the way the First Nation were treated; settlers weren’t so bad and the way they were treated in the ‘schools’ was all the fault of the Irish nuns and priests. Ri-i-i-ight. Also, no real mention of WHY all these southerners headed west. It was because they lost the civil war. Don’t make out they were all so high and mighty. For the most part they were NOT nice, they were blood thirsty bastards who stole every chance they got. Truth is, the confederate soldiers that lost the war and headed west considered it a matter of honour to steal from banks and trains. I’m sure there was a lot of slavery continuing, as well. No one out there to stop them, and as stated, they went west to ‘continue their way of life’ (and yeah, I think I CAN quote that). What. bullshit.

SO happy to see Santos out of US politics. Talk about a liar! He’s even worse than 45. Frankly, I’d doubt he’s even gay. At the rate he lies, cheats and steals, he probably lied about that, too. Say what you will about Wilders; he’s not a nice guy at all. But thus far, he’s only used his right wing POV. I haven’t seen a load of articles talking about him lying. Americans lie so much it’s little wonder they don’t know what the truth is. I doubt they’d recognise the truth if it came up and bit them on the ass.

Need to get a note out to my friend, B. She sent me a bday card and a Thanksgiving card and now a card just saying hi and she misses me. I think I owe her an email. Bless her, she’s worried about me due to my depression. Her only daughter died over this summer, and she’s worried about me. That’s B for you: always putting others ahead of herself. I find it impossible not to love her. She is one of those absolutely good people on this planet. Very few of them, I’ll be the first to admit that. But she’s one, and I’m privileged to know her. So I’ll spend some time this weekend and write to her.

My anger seems to have abated. That’s a very good thing. I don’t need to go off on anyone. And I don’t need to carry that with me. I carried so much anger for so long I’m surprised I’m not totally dried up inside. I used to worry about losing my ‘edge’! What silliness. I should have wanted to lose that edge. That edge eats me up and leaves nothing left for anything else. Now, with it gone, I can actually enjoy myself. I’d rather be thankful every day than angry. And I am thankful. For this home, for T, for the great food we’ve got, for being here in R’dam, for not being in pain. So many things I’m thankful for.

Maybe all the banging was the ghost collecting my anger and carrying it away. I had enough in me, that’s for sure. And now that I’m calmer we haven’t heard it. Well, I always said not all dead spirits were something to chase away. Some of them are there for a reason. A good reason: to help us.

Bang away, then. You haven’t wrecked anything yet, and I feel much better.

Thank you, ghost.

Just a little shit

Word constipation. That’s what I got. Not writers’ block. That’s far too nice a term for what I’m feeling. It’s word constipation. The words are right there. Yet this is, for the record, the third post I’ve written. I’m determined that it will not be the third post I’ve deleted. Why do I keep tossing them after writing them? I pass judgement on my own work and deem it unworthy. It’s not good enough to actually hit that publish button.

Reminder to me: I did not start this blog to gain followers or write something brilliant. I started this blog to sort myself out, because I find it easier to write my problems than actually speak them out loud.

Just to prove it to myself: dirjiw3889wes/ ,mxxc/, bndiffugyPRHQMS. Yeah. Publish THAT bit of nonsense.

We’re cold in NL. The east and centre of the nation have already had snow. It’s supposed to drop a bit today in R’dam, but it’s not supposed to accumulate. As for me, I’m curled up on my chair with a blanket over my legs and my hoodie hood up over my head most of the time. I’m not turning up the heat because turning up the heat is how we got into this mess in the first place. Goddess! Talk about the sins of the mother being visited upon her daughters! We are paying for what our ancestors did to this planet. And we’re gonna keep paying, because most of ‘us’ are still into massive pollution. Humanity wants its cars and planes, its fast food and corporate farms. Humanity wants to believe the lies they tell us to assuage any guilt we may feel over buying more shit. We are willing to turn a blind eye towards the sewerage on our shores and the toxic run offs on our lands. …Hmmm. This rant is a big part of the reason I’ve trashed all my recent posts. I seem to return to this time after time. Generally that indicates a big thing for me. But I’m so damned tired of ranting and seeing nothing change. C’mon, already! Saw an article on CNN today: Are COP meetings really blah blah blah, like Greta Thunberg said? Of course they are. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that. And it sure as hell shouldn’t be a fucking question anyone is asking anymore. If we wanted to change what we were doing, we’d have done it already. Somebody doesn’t want things to change. Somebody with a lot of power. And yeah, it’s probably a bunch of old white men. Because aren’t ALL our problems begun by OLD WHITE MEN?

AAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh!

I am as angry as I’ve ever been. It’s a deep seated thing, far under my skin. I don’t feel it on the surface. On the surface, I’m…eh…okay. A little bored, a little tired, but mostly okay. But every time I bring up climate change I just rant and rant, on and on. I’d really like to move on. Get over it. Whatever annoying fucking phrase you want to put in there that basically says shut the fuck up about it, already! But I can’t. I see nothing change, so how could I? Dr T may say this anger has to do with my manic side. Maybe so. But it runs so deep I think he’d have to make me comatose before I stopped feeling this way. And don’t get me wrong: there are days when comatose sounds pretty fucking good to me.

Tomorrow I have to go out in public. Getting my corona shot in the afternoon. Well, that’s as good a reason as any to try and write this anger out of me. I have no need to feel angry as I run around tomorrow amongst the humans. Nope. That kind of hidden anger spreads, like a contagion. I’ve seen it happen. I don’t want to be patient zero.

Had high hopes that I’d make it to the gym this week to do some walking. Simple, easy, no problem. But I’m still blowing out yellow goo from my head every morning, so I haven’t made the move yet. I got my iPod charged and basically I’m as ready as I can get myself. So it will happen, and soon. Just don’t ask me how soon ‘soon’ is.

There’s a lot left to cover. Politics, war, and the usual sort of horror we reign down on ourselves. I’m not going there today. Today was just a little poo. The little shit that comes out when constipation finally breaks. It’s the poo before the shit storm, if you will. I got things moving. That’s good enough.

It’s got to stop

If you think women haven’t made inroads in sexism, just watch some of season 1 of the original Bewitched series. Holy Hell! The series has been running on ONS, one of those stations that plays older stuff. T recorded it because we both remember the series from when we were kids. We watched episode 3 of season 1 last night (we missed the first 2 episodes). Darin brought home a would be client for a dinner party. Samantha worked all day in the kitchen, not using magic, and prepped the meal. When Darin’s guest came, he immediately had his eye on Samantha. He cornered Sam and pretty much would have raped her had she not used her magic to turn him into a dog. Then, when she told Darin about all of it, he accused her of making it all up and overreacting. It was an awful show and horrible, as a woman, to watch. Made in 1964, it had all the shit I grew up with. That ‘you’re overreacting’ and ‘you’re making it up’ when it was VERY clear that the guy would have raped Sam in an instant. These days, I think the show needs a damned disclaimer. Goddess forbid another young girl would watch it and think that’s the way it is! I lived that reality and trust me: you don’t want to go there.

I don’t understand why modern society allows crap like that to be shown. Especially without warnings. I’m not really into banning shows or books, just add warnings to everything. I mean, there is NO WAY that Wuthering Heights should still be in the young adult’s section listed as ‘romance’, but you know what? That’s where you can find it. It is a story of stalking and control, not of love, but the world allows young girls to read it and tells them that’s what romance stories are. No, no, no. But that’s part of the subtle sexism we women talk about and get slagged off for. Maybe in another 60 years that will have changed.

Yeah. We’ve been saying that for millennia.

I feel a little better today. Didn’t get out quite so much crap from my nose today. My colour is better, too. Still don’t feel good enough to head out to the apotheek for my meds. That’ll take a few more days. And I’ve topped out on my vitamin C. A bit is good; too much and you get the squirts, which is where I’m at. Ah, well. Better too much at this point than too little.

I’ve got Lord of the Rings on. Just a good long story where I don’t have to think about what disc goes in next. An engaging story I’m not afraid to fall asleep to because I’ve seen it numerous times (and I own it).

Brought up to T how, as a young girl, I had to put myself into the story of Lord of the Rings. There aren’t really any female characters in it that have any big role. So if I wanted to go on the adventure with Frodo, I had to imagine myself there ’cause Tolkien sure didn’t write it. T said he never imagined himself on an adventure in a book. Is that some weird thing I do, or is it his autism? Don’t know. All I do know is I’ve spent my lifetime putting myself into stories that are all men, men, men. Lord of the Rings is no different. All your main characters are males. No women that really go fighting or questing or doing anything interesting other than waiting around for the men to return. Oh, sure, there’s the one female that kind of bitches about that and heads out on the battlefield, but that’s the only one. I just can’t get over my irritation that women have always had to do this, but men can’t seem to flip that around if you make your main characters female. I mean… The Hunger Games should have proved that. I don’t know if one guy went to see the films without a girl by his side. I’m surprised I didn’t hear more about how they’re all ‘chick flicks’. That’s how you put down anything women do, right? It’s chick lit or chick flicks or just chick shit. If you want a REAL story, it’s got to be about men, right? All men. The only women are strippers and mothers. That’s it. Other than that, we shouldn’t exist at all, should we?

Damn you all to hell eternal.

But hey! At least we’re not in the 60s anymore. Telling a woman she’s overreacting when a man tries to rape her isn’t done much anymore. Oh, I’m absolutely POSITIVE it still goes on. There are too many nations, Western ones included, that put the onus on women: don’t walk alone, don’t wear provocative clothing (which will be decided on a case to case basis), don’t flirt with men, don’t drink alone, don’t go to clubs alone, don’t talk to strange men, etc. Never: men should be off the streets by 8 pm so they don’t harass women. Never: men need to be curtailed and supressed because they’re the ones causing the trouble, not us. Nope. Just make women feel bad about themselves.

It’s the ultimate diss. The ultimate action of control. And it’s happening in far more than just extreme Muslim communities. It’s happening right now, under your nose. You may even be perpetuating it. You may be enabling it. You may be causing it.

It’s got to stop.