I’ll be posting my herbal stuff tomorrow. Today is for moi.
So. Had my regular shrink time yesterday. Dr T surprised me by prescribing me several sleeping pills. I didn’t think I was going too fast at all. Nor was I describing anything I hadn’t described previously. I just talked about how T is wearing on me lately because he’s too quick to blame me for anything and everything that happens around the house, and how I’m still having problems settling down after a band rehearsal. Maybe we’re at that point where he’s got to do a write-up to some health council to justify us still seeing each other. I don’t know. What I do know is I’m holding a script for sleeping pills. Ten of them. He warned me off taking them two days in a row or using them too often. No problem. Last sleep aid I tried was melatonin, which gave me very vivid nightmares from which I had trouble waking. I’m not all that eager to pop a pill to sleep. But, I figure I’ll try one out after our next rehearsal. See how blah it makes me post popping. See how I sleep on it. I did say to Dr T that the one thing I was afraid of was going off on a manic streak when I finally do land a job, so maybe it was that statement that made him do it. I suppose the smart thing is to NOT try and shrink my shrink. Just take the prescription and use as needed.
Conversation on T: Dr T reassured me what T is doing is all part of his autism. He acknowledged my viewpoint and suggested that I just get out of the house and away from him for a while each day. Dr T was also cool enough to acknowledge my cleaning streak, and how I have to tidy up my personal space before I can really go out in the world. It’s good for me to hear my actions aren’t way off the median scale of things.
It is just past 11 and already I’ve been chided to get the fuck out of my chair and take a walk. We’ve bright sunshine and mid teens temps. I planned to get out a bit anyway. T’s chiding makes me feel like I’ve been a real slug. But he’s not always here, and even when he is, he doesn’t always acknowledge what I do.
News over here: NL is currently facing a flu epidemic. Between Carnival and the warmer weather (and our relaxed measures), our flu rate has skyrocketed. And people are SICK with it. Out more than 2 weeks at a time sick. Plus, coronavirus. It’s not gone yet. Discussions on local elections. Not as high a turn out as expected. Not too much movement on the parties. The gov’t wants to ban fast food places near schools to try and curb obesity in kids. Oh, THAT’LL go down like gangbusters. Other: more reports on trying to get Ukrainian refugees settled. The housing shortage, language issues, and overcrowding are the big problems. Sadly, NL is doing what I imagine many places are doing: focusing all their energy on Ukraine and Ukrainians, rather than the myriad of refugees we actually receive. Other other: Spain is currently being hit by a dust storm that’s whipped up from the Sahara. We’re seeing gorgeous sunsets lately, which means we have a lot of crap in the air, too.
Heard from our band mate; he’s still got coronavirus and hasn’t even had 1 clean test yet. Yikes. At least he doesn’t seem to have bad symptoms.
Tried a new ‘do yesterday. I pulled my hair up into one of those up pointing ponytails. To me, it looks like the I Dream of Jeannie hairstyle, but that may be too old a reference for most of you. Anyway, it takes a couple of ponytails tied together to get it to look like that. And I rediscovered the pain of long hair. Oh, yes, I thought of my mother yesterday! The tail looked good, no doubt, but all the weight of my hair was held by the front tresses and by yesterday afternoon my hair and skull were aching where it was pulling. Could not wait to get it out. Plus, it’s too long. Again. Had real trouble separating my hair to do it. It was a weird childhood flashback. Up ’til now, I haven’t done a hairstyle that pulled like that. In other words, I haven’t hurt myself. But last night! Gods! I remember the same feeling, the itching to take my hair down every damned day when my mother did it. And I discovered there should be NO surprise at the admonishment I received on one of my report cards: Beeps is a clock watcher. Yeah. I was counting the seconds ’til I got my hair free. Ow! Even this morning, with an easier braid in my hair, the front locks ache from yesterday.
My hair really is way too heavy.
Still loving The Hunger Games. Strongly recommend it as a read. If you’re into that sort of thing, I mean. YA books. Or just good stories. I know most adults read adult stuff. Intellectual arguments or spy novels or some such thing. I find all that rather boring. I’ll even go so far as to say that I don’t enjoy most ‘adult’ books. Not the pacing nor the subject matter. Maybe that means I’m still stuck in a YA frame of mind.
Been wondering about that lately. Do I look anything like a 50 something year old woman? Should that matter? Should I feel embarrassed over my younger wardrobe, my hoodies and ripped jeans? Worst of all: are people laughing at me behind my back? Oh, yeah. I went that far. It’s hard not too, when groups of younger women tend to laugh once I pass them by. I remember cats like that, and they probably are laughing at me. I’m not sure I really care. On one hand, I do. Obviously. No one wants to feel like other people are laughing at their expense. On the other hand, they’re young idiots who know nothing. They’ll find out for themselves. Or they’ll die. Either way, it’s not my problem.
I be what I be. Even I don’t know what that is.
Almost noon. Time to wrap this up and get outside so I can honestly answer T that yes, I got out for a decent walk. I can soak my feet and do a pedicure when I get back. And I’ve a face mask to clean out my pores and relax me. So I’ve even a nice little reward for my post walk time.
It’s a Friday. Almost always a good day because it’s on the cusp of the weekend. No appointments to remember, no commitments to adhere to. Just a couple of days of time to catch up on cleaning and laundry and rest and fun. Even I, long out of a job, think that way. It’s so damned ingrained in me I can’t quite get away from it, so I’ll let it slide.
Want to hit another corner this weekend. Do some deeper cleaning while T is in the flat in case I fall off the step ladder or whatever I’m balancing on to get to the hard to reach places. Get some music in, too. T and I both feel better post rehearsing, so I need to make sure we do that. Plus I just bloody well need it. Make sure to take care of me, too. That’s important. Stay healthy, stay calm, don’t hurt myself and don’t get wound up into another manic spell.
Goddess, I feel like I’m back to balancing on a tightrope. Walk this thin line. Don’t sway, don’t vary your path. Just this narrow, restrictive path. One foot in front of the other. Slowly.
I hate feeling restricted.
And I miss my mania.
And THAT, to quote another old reference to which many of you will have no clue, is the truth.