Get through it

Still down. Hating it.

Managed to get up and clean the past couple of days. An hour here, an hour there. Hitting the trouble areas that don’t usually get cleaned well. In other words, I’m sitting on the floor scrubbing something that’s really, really dirty. Not doing too much because it’s humid and bad for my RA. Not doing nothing at all because that really won’t help my depression. And I’m not going to the gym because my hands regularly hurt me just picking things up like, oh, my laptop. Or my water bottle.

So T gently approached me the other day to ask about my book. He’s been on me for over a year to re-release it here in NL. I’d managed to pull up my original manuscript that includes several appendices I didn’t have in my Irish release. But that was it. Oh, I looked at it here and there. But I didn’t go in for re-writes or big corrections. Anyway, I had to ‘fess up to basically doing nothing with it. He’s asked for and received the manuscript from me so he can put in the work to get it published. I…I just can’t get all that excited. Oh, I may sell a copy or two, but that will be it. It’ll be a lot of work for very little return and I am just sick to death of that. Had to admit to that, too, because T asked the big question: Why? Why wasn’t I more excited about it? Why this, why that? So I told him how effing lousy I’ve generally felt this year. My RA has been bad. I seem to get to the gym for a week or two or even a month and then I get hit with bad RA or my feet fall apart or I hurt myself or whatever. In short, I feel like I’m making zero progress. At the gym AND in life. And I’m so fucking depressed by this seeming mountain of obstacles I have to somehow find the energy to get myself over at a time when it feels like a big deal to get up and do my fucking laundry. And I am so, so VERY sick of working and working and perfecting and sweating and working some more and then getting fucking nowhere with it.

…So I’ve been in touch with the salon to try and schedule an appointment to get my braids out. Yeah. That turned into a fiasco (which is NOT helping me). At first I did it online. I said I wanted two appointments because last time I think it took a full hour to get my braids out. But that was a problem for some reason. Goddess! I had a back and forth with someone who didn’t know me. Someone who finally passed my number onto M, the person who does my braids. And of course M tried to call me on the morning I got up to find that once again my phone had died overnight. I have an appointment next week. Which is good, because – and I really hate to say this – my hair broke and one of my braids came out. Yep. I have a near bald spot on my head. Lucky for me, it’s on the bottom row of my hairline. But I’m really, really bothered by it. Granted, it’s not a LOT of hair. That row had more extensions than my actual hair. But my hair broke. My hair doesn’t break easily. But it seems the braids really do a number on me. So I want them out and I want them to be VERY careful. But all of this appointment making was done online. Again. So I didn’t bring it all up because it’s a lot of English to throw at them. They’ll see what’s happened when I walk in.

And the weather is grey and cool and humid, which means I’m not feelin’ great.

Mostly I just feel down. Really down. And it feels right now like I have a lot dragging me down. Fighting it as best I can, but it’s winning. I’m not in tears. I guess that’s a small victory. And I’ve assured myself that if all my hair breaks when they take out the braids, well, that’s a reason to have this long hair cut short. Also, the gym. It ain’t going anywhere. I made it back before; I’ll make it back again.

I’ll get through this. Maybe not with my long hair. Maybe still with all this extra weight on me. But I will get through it.

Simple

It’s a rest day. A real rest day.

T’s confessed he’s happy because I’m making him feel fat and lazy because I’ve been going to the gym so much. Aaaaah! The penny drops. He really shouldn’t. He goes on bike rides out in the world for hours at a time and it isn’t always easy biking. But he’s not stretching or lifting weights or doing sit-ups, so I understand. Honestly, he’s made me feel guilty for months and months due to my inactivity. I’m just finally feeling like I’m on more of an even level with him as far as movement goes. And my body is gonna show my exercise faster than his simply because he’s in better overall shape than I am. So can I imagine it’s on the difficult side to watch me take off like I have with exercise again? Sure. As T likes to remind me, I’m the person who wore actual wounds into her back because I was doing so many sit-ups and my tail bone kept rubbing on the ground. Truth. And I’m older than I’ve ever been. And my RA is just worse post covid.

So this is my day off NOT because T suggested it nor is it because I’ve hurt myself. This is a Be Kind to Thyself day. Again. Trying to get more of those into my schedule. This may be a late in life learned lesson, but it’s finally sinking in that I must take better care of myself. Even when I’m overweight.

Had to go online today and order my injections. Damn! I let that one slip. Used the last one today. They’ll deliver my new boxes next Thursday in the first half of the day, so no big problem. But I shouldn’t let that one go again. A gentle reminder to myself, because this is the first time I’ve let it get that close. Also remembered to send out an email asking for an appointment with the dental hygienist in 6 months. Can’t let that one get away from me, either. I’d made notes for myself in my agenda, but that’s now over a week old and I’m not seeing it so it’s easy to forget. And on the note of ‘stuff I still gotta do’ is finding an outlet that will take my return package. I tried all the places that used to do it around my home and they’ve all closed. Went online and found something not too far, but I’ll have to first take the metro a couple of stops and then walk for another 15 minutes to find it. I’m a bit worried that I’ll find that outlet closed as well. So I think I’ll search out another spot and make notes on how to get there. I’d like to get this thing sent back before next week. We’ll see.

T read a store chain at the mall is going to close within a week. It’s one of the only places we can still buy DVDs (other than online). So he went and bought a bunch of films for cheap. Yea! New stuff to watch. That’s always cool. More horror and sci-fi. Again: cool, because even when they’re really bad they can be great to make fun of so it works. I keep looking at our tv options. Yikes! Everybody is a big pay for deal these days. Pay for streaming. Pay for the newest of the new. Pay for special interests. Pay to watch old films, pay to watch new films, pay to watch films you’ve never heard of. You all DO know that if you just own the damned thing you can watch it as many times as you want. You can watch it ’til you’re sick of it and then sell it on. Paying for one time viewing or streaming services is just stupid. Don’t just buy it; own it.

Saw a news bit this morning on AI and art. How IT people can now re-code your artwork so AI can’t read it properly to rip off your pictures or style. Oh, gee. IT people created AI that now is ripping off your work without your consent but if you pay them they can re-code some elements so AI will get close to your work but won’t be able to recreate it. What a rip off! Yeah, we’ll make the issue and then make you pay us to fix it… Isn’t that the same mentality as the mafia or gangs? They create the issue and then make people pay for protection from what they’ve created. Yeah. That sounds exactly like an extortion ring. Why are we taking this from them? Why are we putting up with this? And why do so many of you walk around with your faces permanently glued to your damned phones? You do know all of what you’re consuming online has to be supported by servers which are some of the most polluting things we’ve ever created because they use a TON of resources to create nothing, right?

Been spending quite a bit of time thinking about that book I may leave behind. The one with old fashioned advice. I’m sort of the last generation that knows about a few things. In fact, I’m an out of time person. My parents were old enough to be my grandparents when they had me, so my knowledge is an extra generation old. But simple things keep presenting themselves to me, like what we did before kleenex. We used handkerchiefs. And yes, we had to wash snot out of them. That was just the way it was. What did we do before plastic containers? We used glass. Glass that was often broken and sometimes caused cuts. It was one of those dangers as children: handle glass containers without shoes on and you’re taking your own chances on getting hurt. That was just a fact of life. But I remember when plastic containers came out. There was a big push, particularly from the soda manufacturers. How the new plastic containers didn’t break. There was at least one ad run non-stop of a plastic soda bottle falling and bouncing on the ground and then there was a close up of a kid’s face. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about how so much knowledge isn’t passed down. I think I got a lot because I felt a great need to interact with C as a child. I always asked what life was like when she was my age. What she used to do during her days. So I got the stories about having to walk to school, or how they didn’t have hair dryers so you had to spend all day washing, setting, and drying your hair. Things I thought strange when I was a child because my life was so different. But I see it now as an early education in old fashioned ways. Which is becoming more and more important every day. The throw away culture created, marketed and sold to the world cannot continue. And..I grew up with too many people who straight up told me they don’t ever talk to their parents or grandparents. I still meet them today. So knowledge is being lost. Important knowledge that you won’t know you’re missing until it’s too late.

And, Goddess help me, if I do have to come back here again, I’d like one place with all this knowledge I’m currently carrying. Notes, of course, on other important works to seek out. But I’m no fool. Some of the best herbal medicine books ever written have been banned in the US since before I was a kid. That won’t change. I have copies now, but I had to come to Europe to find them. Unavailable in North America. And old texts. They may go out of print. I need something current. Something that could get past the American bans. Ugh. I may need a code of some sort.

Somehow, I feel like I’ve done this before…

I do not need another Voynich Manuscript. Nope.

Just gimme something simple.

I can do this

Here’s a basic truth: this planet does its damnedest to make destruction look stunning. Last night we had an hour long sunset, with colours that ranged from florescent pink and orange into deep and dusky maroon. It kept moving and changing and I just couldn’t keep my eyes off it. And even as I sat in my chair, gobbling up the spectacle with my eyes, I knew damned well that whatever was making such strong colours in the sky was probably toxic to me and anyone else who breathed it in. So I drank in the colours, and reminded myself that some beauty kills.

I am very happy these days that I didn’t reproduce. There have been times in my past when I’ve questioned that decision. But the lack of progress and total ‘tourist’ type of reaction to the COP meeting tells me I did the right thing. Nothing has changed, other than humanity creating even MORE pollution. I honestly don’t think COP meetings should happen if the evidence shows we’re doing nothing to help our planet and simply tearing up even more than before. Those things should automatically become illegal and recognised for the bullshit they are.

Oh, but let’s all fly to Qatar for some football matches. We’ll turn a blind eye to all the human rights violations. Especially when there’s a temporary lift on the bans of alcohol and homosexuality. Everything is fine! They’re allowing us to drink for a week or two. And as long as we don’t have to actually see anyone suffering, who the fuck cares what they do, right?

And we can all concentrate on the bad old Middle East and how they treat women, right? Women have it GREAT in the west. All that equality and the right to have total autonomy over our own bodies. Fan-bloody-tastic. Nothin’ to bitch about here. Nope.

Been trying to push some Dutch lately. Reading. Ugh! I really struggle thru passages I know I could have just breezed thru before this over-long break. Trying to keep up on it.

Also spent some time on my old novel draft. Plucked up my courage and began to make some changes to it. I have to push this thing thru. T thinks it will help us to have another book out for sale. I promised I’d do it. Finally I’m making a bit of headway. A very small bit, but it IS headway. I’ll be satisfied.

I have plans to get out on a walk today, too. I gotta get over to the apotheek and pick up my RA meds. And it’s not supposed to rain or be too cold, so I’ll wander around a bit.

Confessed to T about my fears. He was pretty incredulous. I get it, too. I saw no reason for my anxiety after the fact. But I also know I can hold myself very tight and not allow the fear to touch me when it actually happens. I push myself thru it. That fear has to come out sometime, somewhere. I just didn’t expect to feel so much of it after my hair appointment.

But that’s what I get for being brought up in the US. I’m not sure I could do this if I were living over there. There is such a huge divide between the black and white populace over there. It’s not like that here. I think the new immigrants deal with it more, like I do. I see how uneasy they are on the street. How they’ll pass me and not meet my eyes, not respond to my greeting. But the local Dutch? No problems. Big smiles all the way and it doesn’t matter what their skin colour is. And the salon and stylist are both local Dutch. I’m welcome there. Or maybe I don’t get it at all. Maybe it’s there and I just don’t see it or feel it. Difficult to tell, being on this side of the fence. …Drop it, Beeps. Just be yourself. Open, honest, pleasant. That’s all you need to do. And that’s MORE than enough for you!

Took a home corona test yesterday ’cause I’ve been sneezing a LOT and my throat felt kinda sore and scratchy. Nothing. It might be my allergies; mould has been very high lately. Or it might be a touch of the flu (I’m supposed to get my shot this coming week). Just thought I should be on top of it. In case.

News: Top story today is that our health care premiums are rising. Still hundreds lower than the states, but it keeps creeping up. Our train services are having problems. Talk is that we may lose even more trains. And accidents are on the rise. Train accidents. Yet another car was hit on the tracks the other day and it caused a shutdown of operations for a while. And a train was stopped while in an underwater tunnel (shudder!) and people were evacuated because it smelled like there was a fire. There wasn’t, but I guess the entire thing took almost 2 hours. I get uneasy when I ride a train and I know it’s going underwater. Even underground is something I don’t really like. Underwater is… No. I may hyperventilate. So trains have been in the news a LOT lately. Then it’s all Ukraine and the US elections.

On the chop block this week: flu shot, shower, fysio, hair. Not necessarily in that order. And I will work on language and music and my writing. … Yeah. And I’ll also exercise every day and bake an incredible dessert and cure cancer while I’m at it. Pfft! Way to set yourself up, Beeps. Just get to those appointments. Do what you can without killing yourself. Or driving yourself insane. The rest will fall into place.

Other stuff that makes no sense: my boobs have been sore lately. I am WAY past menstruation AND menopause, and it isn’t like I’ve been jogging around or making my tits bounce. But they’re sore at the nipples. No reason for this that I can suss out. Those spiky pains left over from my bouts of shingles are going on, too. That’s a bit more understandable. I’ve felt off lately, and generally when I feel off or fall ill, those pains return. Just one of the great aftereffects of shingles. I don’t like to wear a bra at the best of times, and when that’s active it ain’t the best of times. But the nipple soreness? Not so understandable.

Other other: I keep getting deja vu. I think I’m triggering dream memories. That’s what it feels like. Like a memory of a dream suddenly comes to the surface in my head. I remember stuff like having to make a decision or sorting thru various items. Just quick flashes without a lot of context. But it’s weird. And it’s happening a lot lately.

Hm. I should share that with T. I know he’d want to know.

Wow. It isn’t even noon yet. I feel like I’ve already been thru a lot this morning. Time to wrap this up and make my move. Start something other than yet another episode as I sit and play games. Keep trying. A bit here, a bit there. I can do this.

I can do this.

Live, and be true to yourself

I began my day with T talking about why many old programs aren’t being re-released in the US: rights issues. Duh-uh. But apparently this is a thing now. So listen up, people. *ahem* US Corporations exploit everything they own. Long before streaming began, they decided many older shows and films just wouldn’t make any more money for them, so they began to sell off rights piece-meal. Now, lo and behold, they find they were wrong about the future but they can’t get those rights back. Ergo, no, you won’t hear the theme song from The Beverly Hillbillies and you can’t see any season beyond season 1 of Murphy Brown. Ten years ago, their strategy was called good business. Now people are simply pissed off because they can’t see episode this or that. Learn a bit about how business works in the US. That’s my suggestion.

Yesterday I took a look at my blog stats, something I almost never do. An alert caught my eye: there were 6 messages I’d never approved. I thought to myself that was strange; I don’t get a lot of comments and how could I have missed them? Then I went back to my old posts. Yikes! No wonder so few people comment on my posts! I really bit the heads off of some commentors. I read thru their comments and didn’t quite get what was setting me off. Ah, medication! Right? And while I’m actually feeling some chagrin over my blasts at other people, I’m also willing to let all of it stand. This IS what I was hoping for: a real, honest record of someone climbing the fuck out of mental ill health. It ain’t pretty. It hasn’t been fun. I haven’t been nice and I’m still struggling. But it is what I wanted it to be: no glossy coverings, no back steps, no erasing this post or that because I later became embarrassed. And… In reading some of my early posts, I think I caught a sense of an angry person who was determined to remain hurt and angry. I can’t fully blame myself for being in the middle of an episode. But I also have to be honest with myself. When I was in the middle of a rage, I didn’t want to be mollified. I just wanted to let loose with every bit of anger in me.

Medicated me is SO mellow in comparison!

T and I hit the song I’m supposed to sing. It didn’t help me with my confusion. We’d already transposed it. I’ve been carrying around the transposed sheet music (which, btw, says ‘transposed’ right up on top of the page) for weeks now. I’ve been singing it this way. I’m not sure why the guys were all ‘Gee, what key is this supposed to be now?’ We already knew. Well, now I’ll state it clearly: it’s the key of E. Let’s go.

Received my invitation for another covid shot. I have an online sign up to do and a full page of health questions to answer. Yea! Sometimes it’s like my records are kind of forgotten and I’m put at the back of the line for stuff. I’ve even had to insist on some things early, like getting a yearly flu shot. Technically, I’m not old enough for an automatic call in every year. I had to ask my GP to put me on that list, and that’s with everyone having my records which include my meds (and that should be enough to get me on that list). I’ll hit it tomorrow and hopefully have an appointment soon.

Exercise: Geez! This just ain’t my month. So I’ve been taking it easy and not pushing my back. If I wake up and feel it twinging, I’m not pushing. That was a couple of days off right there. Then I had the warts on the bottom of my foot frozen. That hurt, and I didn’t want to walk any distance with expected blisters coming on. Then we had the repair guy here, which I had to be around for and both empty and then restock everything under the sink. Now it’s music again and I won’t wear myself out just before rehearsal. Basically, I’ve fucked off all week now. I don’t feel good about that. At all. But – and – I haven’t continually hurt my back. In fact, it feels pretty good at this point. I haven’t had problems with my feet. I wish I could get moving faster. And more often. But until I reach a good point in physical health, I gotta do this day by day.

Well, maybe tomorrow. *sigh* How often have I said that recently? (Too often!)

News: The resurgence of the coronavirus is all over the top headlines. We’ve already seen a 30% spike in cases. T and I are back to wearing masks on the metro. Too many coughing idiots on public transport. And we both noticed RET is running shorter trains at night, meaning we’re in even closer contact than ever before. Nobody wants to do another lock down. But there’s a lot of discussion around how we’re supposed to handle this winter. Speaking of winter, reports are in that blanket and sweater sales are skyrocketing. Duh-uh. That’s a first line of defence. I guess a lot of people were just turning up their heat and wearing those light clothes. Another article stated our national train service has been skimping on upkeep. I can believe that. I see the metro lines down all the time due to maintenance. But not the train lines. The train lines only get it when it’s so bad that trains can no longer operate. They’ve gotta be taken care of before that. The gov’t’s plan for buying out farmers isn’t going well. And the elderly are now the new vulnerable in the LGBTI+ community, with an article stating that they’re getting bullied in care homes. Oh. And young people who were pressured/talked into sending out nude pix of themselves are now having those pix held ransom by predators, so don’t put nude pix on the internet.

*shakes head* You DO realise it’s stuff like that that makes us elders question your intelligence, right? And just so you don’t pull any agism shit, I posed for a series of nudes myself when I was in my 20s. But I always knew the photographer had them, and had I ever been pushed into the public eye for my music or writing or whatever, it was likely those nudes would come to the fore and be shown publicly. I never expected otherwise.

But I remained steadfastly anonymous and stubbornly out of the spotlight no matter how much marketing I did for myself.

Probably a good thing, too.

Of course, that isn’t how I looked at it back then. Back then I was working really hard and getting nowhere. Feeling like a real failure, too. Now I’ve got perspective and age and quite a bit more knowledge about life. I had no reason to be so down on myself. I did good work. I created good material. And honestly, however hungry I was for fame back in my 20s, I’d never want it now. I enjoy my privacy far too much. Fame is a trap and I’m super glad I sidestepped it.

But I think that’s what you learn as you age: whatever happens, you’ll make your peace with it. Or maybe that’s just really easy for me to say because of where I’m standing. So I guess your task, if you’re a younger reader, is to find that peace. How do I do that, Beeps? I hear ya. You can go and read every blog with a writer you relate to and STILL not know how to do it because your journey is totally unique and no one has lived your life before. Hell! I’ve been thru a lot and I can’t tell you how I got here. Just… Do your best to laugh every day. Find someone you trust and love them. Be kinder to yourself, because things may be working out exactly the way they need to. And never forget what’s important to you. If it’s people, love. If it’s art, create. If it’s privacy, go be a hermit. That’s it.

Live, and be true to yourself.

Nothingburger

I am such a nothing. A smudge of nothingness on the complete inconsequentiality of humanity.

So T’s been nagging at me. And fair enough; he’s right. I’ve sat on my ass and bemoaned this or that and done absolutely fucking nothing for quite enough time, thank you. He’s nagged at me about my writing. Nagged at me about music. Just…it’s just those well placed and timed comments that eat my soul away. I get his frustration. He doesn’t get mine. But that is often the position I find myself in. To be the more understanding one, to be the flexible one. It wears on me. It really does. I feel like I’m always giving in and allowing T his way. Dishes are done when he wants to do them. We watch or don’t watch what he’s interested in. Little thought is ever given to me or my preferences. I’m just supposed to go along with it all, and when I don’t, or when I balk at something, I get all this surprise like ‘gee, I thought you really were enjoying it this way’. But why should I speak up? I did that for a long time. Took the fore on many things. Then I was told I wasn’t his friend, that I didn’t take any of his feelings into account. In short, it’s always been my fault. Sooner or later, it comes down to that. I’m tired of fighting it. I just wish T would understand what a big wedge he sometimes drives between us.

I now really, really want a deep tissue massage for my headaches. But I can’t schedule one. Why? I read about it at a place I found not far from home, and they do your feet, too. I can’t ask anyone to fucking handle my feet right now. They gross ME out. So feet first (literally). That’s Tuesday, though I really don’t know what’s gonna happen other than a possible referral back to a dermatologist. But even then…there isn’t much they can do. They’ve given me the strong topical medicine. There’s not much else they can do. Maybe a UV treatment. Or injections, which I do not want. But there is no 100% for sure this is gonna clear up the problem. Especially since it’s been progressing. I didn’t have this when I was first diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. I developed in on my feet here in NL. Then it spread to my hands. Now it’s up my fingers and sometimes under my nails. So it’s a progressive thing and obviously getting worse over time. And in the era of monkeypox shaming, this is NOT something I want all over my body.

I really feel fucking down. It’s hot again today. At first today was supposed to have rain and a temp break, but now it’s just supposed to be hot for a few more days. That doesn’t help me one bit. I’m trying to get back to a decent schedule. Work on my book, work on music, work on language. But in order for me to actually DO all that, I have to take control back. TV news has to be turned off after half an hour so I can begin. And I can’t be interrupted because T reads some post he finds funny and thinks it’s a good idea to blurt out whatever is tickling his fancy. My best work time has always been mornings, but if I’m not allowed to do mornings the way I want, I won’t get anything done. My time will be wasted.

Maybe I gotta start setting an alarm. Get up extra early. My lazy self doesn’t like that idea one bit. My workaholic self thinks it’s a great idea because she knows we can get three times the amount of work done when T isn’t up as when he IS up. Meh. But that kind of scheduling was only ever good for me when I fell into it naturally. Pushing it will just exhaust me.

Man! I miss my manic periods. I really, really do. Not just all the work I could get done, either. I miss that ultra confidence. That get up and go feeling ’cause there’s just so much to get done and so much to be excited about! Now it’s just all overwhelming. Too big. Music is too big; too many songs I gotta work and work hard. The book is too much; re-writes and all sorts of effing decisions to make before THAT gets the fuck out. Language: all on me. I have no teacher, no friends who speak Dutch to me on a regular basis, nothing. I can’t even talk Dutch with T because he just can’t make to my level and doesn’t understand one fucking thing I try to say unless it’s absolutely the easiest thing in the entire fucking world and even THEN he’ll probably interrupt me to ask what the fuck I said – which does nothing for my self confidence, either. The weight of all that plus my physical problems is on me at all times. And T wonders why I’m so fucking stuck and can’t move. I’m in fucking overload 100% of the fucking time.

Fuck fuck FUCK! And the fucking fact that T says fuck every other word every fucking time he talks to me isn’t helping, either. I do not swear IRL to the extent I do out here. Only when I’m in a bipolar mixed episode do I allow that many curse words to cross my lips. So hearing fuck and fucking and fuckers every other word in every single fucking topic imaginable… It feels grating. It jangles my nerves. I’ve even brought it up in conversation and he hasn’t stopped. Do that long enough and it starts to feel like it’s being directed at me.

My doc would understand that last comment. T does not.

Just imagine the same old bitching from me at this point. I honestly don’t want to go there even tho it’s merited.

I wanted to come out of this post feeling a little less like that nothing I walked in here with. But I see I ain’t makin’ it today.

It is really hard to care about someone on the spectrum. It is really hard to take all that shit. Like life itself doesn’t offer enough shit on a platter! No! Let’s throw autism into it. It just makes it a million times more difficult to NOT walk out. They just don’t get how maddening they are.

Durag score is like 8-1 NOT in my favour. I guess if I want it to stay on my head I can’t get a good night’s sleep. The only time I actually woke up with it still on was the night I kept adjusting it every time I moved. Not surprisingly, waking up enough to make sure it was still on and on well did NOT make for a good night’s sleep.

Hm. Cool hair or my mental well being. That’s a difficult one. Especially since I’ve had real braid envy with some people. But, you know…I watched their vids. They admit they don’t let their braids go free unless they want to cause braid envy. Other than that, their braids are wrapped up tight so they don’t frizz out. I don’t know about that. Protecting my hair at night? Sure. I can see that. But protecting it so much that even I only see it 10% of the time? Um…no. I want to enjoy my hair. Otherwise, why bother?

*sigh* This is such a nothingburger of a post.

Sorry.

I’ll take it

Success! This morning I woke up with my durag still on my head. Of course, it meant that I woke up every time I turned over last night to make sure it was still snug and not coming off. So I didn’t sleep as well as I wanted. And I’m all confused today as to what day it actually is. Had to check on my computer. I am pleased, though. Hoorah. Maybe I’ve got it. Now if only I can sleep naturally thru the night…

Am learning how much my regular paracetamol taking was covering up. Yeesh! More pain than I want, that’s for sure. Hips are a real problem, and that seems to stem from my bout with coronavirus. Last time I saw my rheumatologist I thought my hip pain was simply due to the fact that I was out of shape and just beginning to get out and walk again. Not anymore. There’s some sort of long term damage done to my hips. And I think I gotta talk to my GP about it, too. I’m so out of breath just doing dishes I’m sure it’s long covid. Or lung cancer. Which is why I think I should bring it up and get it checked out, ’cause if it ain’t long covid we’d better start treatment soon.

Notable: T came home yesterday after language class and told me he’d had a funny turn at the library. He got quite ill feeling, and there was no one around that may have triggered him with perfumes. Then I had the entire starving feeling after rehearsal and now this heavy brain fog… Could be a shift in our reality. Keeping my eyes and mind open to it.

Temps are climbing back up near 30C today. It’s not supposed to continue, but it’s not like the forecasts have been that accurate lately, so I don’t really trust it. Our small fire outbreak was contained and ‘seems to be extinguished’ according to the news. Updates on water levels in the country are conspicuously missing; a month ago there was plenty of news about how low the lakes and canals were and now there’s nothing. Ignoring the problem won’t make it go away. I hope they’re keeping an eye on things. Earlier stories had said that the maintenance of our dykes is dependent on having enough water to keep everything moist. We’ve had no appreciable rain, so we’re in trouble. But climate change news just isn’t on the table right now.

And that’s just plain wrong. Hearing loads of worry about the winter season and having enough energy. Worry, worry, worry and I’m not sure why. Like I said: if everyone just used some common sense and didn’t expect to keep their living/working quarters in tropical temps, we’d be bloody well fine. But the memory of snow on the ground and frozen canals hard enough to skate on is something only old people own now. For the younger gen, it’s a pipe dream. Something they may have heard about but have never experienced. NL is used to car ownership and wealth. I remembering visiting in the 90s, before the big push happened and it was quite different. Buildings were not heated to 25C in winter and there just weren’t that many cars. I remember cities of bikes and the populace largely wearing all black. Things are very different now.

Did a bit of research on my feet problem. I’ve been looking at triggers. This is the thing: I’ve found listed food triggers for psoriasis, but not pustular psoriasis. I’m taking the triggers for regular psoriasis to heart. We have been eating an awful lot of paprikas, and the nightshade family of veg is one of the trigger items listed. Told T and he’s pulling back on using paprika right away. NL has been glutted with them, so we’ve thrown in extra every meal. It’ll take awhile before I see any difference from it, if that’s part of the problem. Meantime, well… It’s just gross. Every time I take my socks off, skin flakes fall to the ground. That’s how bad it is. And it hurts.

Today I start going thru my novel for re-publishing. T’s been on me to do that and I haven’t moved on it. Finally found my files and put in on my computer so it’s time to start work on it. Ugh. Not looking forward to it at all. As soon as I pull it open, I start to criticise my own work and nit-pick about this or that. Getting lost in minor corrections is always a hazard. I’m only asking myself to do one chapter today. That’s all. Don’t get caught up in it, don’t feel I have to do it all in one sitting. Just one chapter. Then I can move on.

Move on to…resting my aching hips, probably. I do not want to go out today.

Ugh. One more thing. Spent a load of time last night rubbing the muscles around my shoulders and do NOT have a headache today. In fact, the entire area feels more relaxed and at ease than it’s felt in a long time. So I think I have to make an appointment for some massages. It’s difficult to do it on myself. And not very relaxing. But it IS a bit of a success.

I’ll take it.

Suck-ola

Sort of feel like a person who’s had a face hugger on them. Like there’s something inside that’s trying really hard to come out of me. Keep giving myself opportunities to let it fly; I open up my docs and just start writing but all I get are fragments. I find it particularly discouraging right now, as I read Suzanne Collins’ work (Hunger Games). She’s a good writer. I think I usually am, too, but at the moment I can’t finish a proper thought much less a damned paragraph.

So I showered. It’s still a bit cold today, but I couldn’t stand myself anymore. I kept thinking of all those germs crawling all over my body. Yuck! I feel lighter, but still disjointed in my brain. Like my two hemispheres aren’t talking back and forth.

Scanned thru news today. I just couldn’t read too much of it; LaPen is gaining ground in France and a Chinese worker beat a dog to death with a shovel because its owner had covid. More on US ‘democracy’ losing ground (not that the US was ever a democracy; I remind you again it’s a republic). All those decades of Nazi infiltration via science grants and other shit the government did is really showing now. But Americans were always a strange lot; as Nazi as Nazis, but fighting against the Nazi regime. What a way to keep the populace confused! LaPen is worrisome. The EU doesn’t need another right wing leader. France is and always has been a hot spot for dissent. If things get out of hand there, we really WILL be facing war here. Ukraine? Too far away, too removed. But France? It’ll pull us into war faster than anything else.

I suppose that’s inevitable. Look at the pattern of the rise and fall of civilisation. Rise to power, dissent, rebellion, war, fall of empire. The truth is that humanity can’t agree. Get too many of us together and everything falls apart. That’s just the odds of it. And it seems like no one learns from history because the same mistakes continue over and over. Truly, the only way to stop humanity from killing each other off IS thru totalitarian rule. Horrible, but true. Small tribes stop their infighting when they face a larger, meaner foe.

You know what we really need? An alien invasion. That would bring humanity together. That would force us to work as one, to overlook all the small shit between us. I can barely believe I’m making these points this morning. Totalitarian rule and alien invasion. But…these are basic truths to me. Fundamental shit I can’t find another way past. It’s what I find so effing depressing. A person can be smart. A person can learn. A person can change and make progress. Not humanity. In mobs, humanity becomes its worst self. Raging, insane, blood thirsty. We are rabid animals. An infection on this planet. A virus.

My doc called me yesterday and apologised for missing our appointment on Thursday. It was… Well, she had her new baby in the office. And as is the want of new babies in offices, that poor thing was crying the entire time we were on the phone. My doc apologised. For her baby crying. Now…crying babies ARE a thing. But it’s a kid. They cry. Too bad about phones; to me, it seems like the frequency babies cry at is amplified over the phone (tho maybe I’m imagining that). It certainly cuts through. I held my tongue; for once my empathy outweighed my annoyance. It just… It felt sad to me. Sad that the child couldn’t communicate what was going on with it. Sad that the doc felt she had to apologise to me for a kid being a kid. Sad that we’re just THERE, you know? For a moment I had a whiff of my own mother, who definitely communicated to me that children were NOT a blessing, but a burden. A really big fucking burden you’d better be ready for.

I never wanted kids. And some kids are little shits, but that’s more the fault of the parents than the children in most cases. Can’t say ALL cases, because I’ve read about children killers. Some just seem to be born wrong. Evil, even. I don’t know that any of them can be saved. But for the most part, I come down on the side of children. Over their parents, over me. Screw the 30 and 40 year olds; it’s the 5 year olds that hold the future. And I believe everyone can have a real impact on the next gen. How you treat them may make a difference. I have never seen children as an extension of their parents; they are unique individuals. And you never know WHAT will be that tipping point. A kind word, a smile, an encouragement at the right time could resonate and put that child on a path of greatness. Similarly, a blow off, an oversight, or an angry word could make that child make really bad decisions about herself and her world. I do what I can, and I regret ever showing my bad side to any kid.

But…it’s happened. Truth. I am not perfect. I try really hard to be, even while I know that’s impossible. And I ride myself really hard.

I don’t know why I’m babbling on about this. Maybe I need to go to confessional. I’ve thought about it before. I’m not Catholic. lol! Not by a long shot. But I’ve often thought about just walking into a church and unburdening myself totally. Confessing to everything that bugs me. Say it out loud, to one person.

Everything is just…pfft. I’m feeling guilt coming up for past stuff I can’t change. I’m getting triggered all OVER the fucking place.

Suck-ola.

It will come

Words. WORDS. A switch in my brain has been flipped and I cannot stop the WORDS. All evening long during tv. At night, as I lay in my bed trying to sleep. This morning as I have my coffee. WORDS. Lines of poetry, thoughts and feelings squeezed down into concentrated little bits. Trying to just let the parade pass me by, but it ain’t easy. If I sit and wait for it to come, wanting to put it down, it will stubbornly stay quiet. I have to let it go. Let it just happen. Talk about total lack of control! This is one of those stay immobile to take action things. Can’t force it. Can’t entice it.

*sigh* It’s like trying to catch a butterfly. Or swat at a fly. You can’t give away what you’re trying to do because if you’re obvious, those flying bastards will do everything they can to evade you. It’s when you pretend to pay zero attention to them that you get ’em.

… See? Now that I’m out here with a blank page in front of me I have nothing in my noggin. Zip. Not even enough words to construct an honest sentence.

Am I even awake? Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I wonder if my ‘sleep’ is me in real life, and this is all the dream. Dreams feel real when you’re in them, after all.

Yes. I am still ‘out there’. Can’t help it; it’s the way I am. Reflective. Philosophical. And honestly, in my opinion, if you don’t consider these fringe ideas you’re cutting yourself off from the best part of this weird world. Contemplation cracks my brain open to new things. I like that. Except when it leads to madness, but…. No one actually considers themselves mad when they are, right? So as long as I continue to consider myself a bit mad for allowing me to think down these lines, I’m okay.

That’s a real weird reassurance to myself.

Quieter this morning. I’m not yelling too much at the tv and T isn’t cursing up a storm. We must have done a good cleanse through hearty laughter. Ignored all that was off around us and put on some good comedy that had us laughing loudly. Nothing chases away dark spirits like true laughter. Nothing. It’s a shining shield to them and they can’t even stand to be in the same room with it. Difficult to achieve most times, and if you try to force the laughter, those dark spirits will feed on that falseness so fast you’ll be knocked out. Don’t actually think I could do it alone, but T and I together can do it.

Music is on the chop block today. I let T call it since every day it seems like something is holding me back for one reason or the other. He gets it. I had no shame poured on me for my waiting. But we gotta get down to it, and as I said, today feels better. I’ll hold it to a couple of hours max. No reason to overdue anything or wind myself up.

Still haven’t showered. Can’t seem to work up the oomph to do it. That sounds bad, so here’s the stuff behind that. The radiator in the shower room doesn’t work. It’s fucking cold in there. With the high winds and cold weather we’ve had, it’s currently really cold in there. I just don’t want to do it right now. And then there’s drying my hair. Gotta have not too cold a day for that, either, or it’ll take 9 hours to dry properly. And then there’s just the whole setting aside the day because of wet hair. I don’t stink too much. I’ll get it to it.

News over here: Well! Almost every story is some reflective piece over ‘the state of affairs’. There are multiple stories about the ‘outcome’ of Brexit, which is only more paperwork and delays. There are stories about Russia and Ukraine. About all the EU leaders who are flocking to this or that summit to try and calm the whole process, which I find totally unbelievable because I still consider this to be a US phantom problem whipped up to distract the masses. There are stories about abusive docs either assaulting women on the table or impregnating them with their own sperm. Way down the page are coronavirus numbers: up, up and up. Not by much, and I’m seeing the same language as I read everywhere else: this ‘we have to get used to it’ shit. Uh-huh. We’re supposed to just get used to this increased death rate, huh? Just ignore that the problem continues, eh? Seems so.

I don’t know. I’m all for suicide, or the right to choose suicide. All I want in the case of the coronavirus is some sort of social acknowledgement that if a non-vax person comes to hospital really fucking sick with this shit, we don’t spend every penny available trying to save them because this was their choice. Care for them, put them in isolation, sure. But pour time and money into their care when all this could have been avoided? Mmmm… I’m not that nice. Probably should be, but I’m not. But if they have the right to put a loaded gun to their heads and play Russian roulette, I have the right to let them die.

Feel bad for the kids. I always say that because it’s always true. Kids get the shortest stick in the world. They have no rights of their own. They are at the mercy of their parents. And not everyone should be allowed to be a parent.

Writing has certainly quieted my head. No great lines to put down, no haunting phrases. Just mundanity. Utter mundanity. Finish this, get my keyboard out, do what I need to do, take care of dishes, plan when I can really get under some water to wash my locks. That’s okay. I’ll be playing keys and it’ll start, or my hands will be in soapy water when it hits, or I’ll be all wet and in the shower when my mind finally lets loose again.

It will come.

I know I do

Rah. Bah. Bah (Deep Tick humour). Only a few days into the new year and already I’ve plenty to bitch about.

Oh, THANK you, pope, for justifying women’s existence and acknowledging that we have skills of our own. Finally in 2022 the church comes out saying violence against women is wrong. Man, oh man! The very idea of any woman being thankful for this far too little and way too late statement makes my skin crawl. Take your patriarchy and shove it up your ass.

It’s truly amazing that news channels can take ‘complex issues of the day’ and squeeze them into short segments while claiming they’re giving you all the angles. Yet, when it comes to covering NYE celebrations, they hammer those stories day after day after day, like acknowledging fireworks around the world (or the very fact that the year has moved forward) is terribly difficult and needs intense coverage so everyone fucking understands. I fucking hate them for it.

Ditto on the non-stop funeral of Tutu. He didn’t want all that coverage, you fools! Didn’t the plain pine box tip you off? Simple, easy. I’ll bet my bottom dollar the last thing Tutu wanted was non-stop coverage of that damned pine box as person after person approaches it and pays their respects.

Oh, and good luck on making ANY progress with the Brexit debacle. France is in the driver’s seat and they will NOT play nice with the UK.

Covid: duh-uh. I see the news is beginning to soften up their readers with stories on living with the virus and what that may look like. I’m now watching the stories I said would come, those flight cancellations and travel issues that were absolutely 100% predictable. Oh, boo-hoo! Like any of this was a surprise. It’s not. It is your own damned fault and you get zero sympathy from me. Idiots.

I’m aware that sometime over the past week or so I’ve lost my zen footing. Or maybe it’s just been eroding away since its peak. I don’t know. But I can’t muster it. And I don’t wanna muster it. Today, right now, I feel like turning into a curmudgeony old crow is just fine. Somebody needs that job, right? And it seems I do it pretty well. So what the fuck.

Opened up my docs and started writing again. It will probably go absolutely fucking nowhere. This idea has been kicking around for fucking decades without a solid story attached to it so I don’t even know why the hell I’m putting it down. And even now, I’m not cool or zen or even just one fucking emotion about this. I’m all over the fucking place and my best landing option is still curmudgeony. Fuck you, computer. YOU tell ME how to spell it if you’re so fucking smart.

Mm. That’s a lot of fucks, even for me.

You know what? I think I’m angry.

Again.

…*sigh* Yeah. I’m at the very beginning of the year and I’m looking out and seeing shit for the next 365, so I’m frustrated because I know (a) nothing will change and (b) humanity’s denial will continue. Denial over the pandemic, denial over climate change, denial. You name it, we’re denying it. And it’s getting us nowhere.

News from over here: A kid died due to fireworks injuries. More are in hospital from injuries. The cops kept their word and stuck by first responders, who needed it. Reports are in of fire brigades and ambulance workers being pelted by rocks and fireworks. Officially ‘nothing got out of hand’, which probably means there were a few hot spots they don’t want to talk about. No numbers on how many Dutch are stranded due to flight cancellations or cruise ship quarantines. I’m guessing it’s too early for that report. Loads and loads of stories on UK work shortages and problems, like the news is trying to drum up some sympathy for that rock. Yeah, good luck with that. France will play a tit for tat for the next six months. There’s been at least one bird flu outbreak and thousands of chickens were culled. Still not seeing evidence of any food shortages; our shelves remain stocked with produce and goods. But the quality of some of what’s offered has dropped. The fruit is not as sweet, the meat a bit more fatty. I’m betting that will continue.

I can see blue sky out the window today, but the seagulls are in and circling which generally means stormy weather is coming. Nice to see the blue. You kind of forget what that looks like after days and weeks of grey. But it’s a triple threat day: Sunday, a day on which even Doctor Who won’t land because nothing ever happens on a Sunday; it’s still the holidays, or close enough that nothing is open and no one is stirring (not even a mouse); and we’re still in lockdown, which means very little is open even when shops are allowed to BE open. Oh, Goddess! It’s gonna be hard to tell if time passes at all today.

Think I should test myself today. Been having headaches again, but now they’re coming on quite early in the day. Before they were late afternoon to evening things, which told me they were probably from eye strain rather than any illness. Now, though, I’m getting hit by headaches early in the day. Well, T just bought a bunch of new test kits. And it’s not like my life will change if I DO have it. Like I said: Sunday, holidays, lockdown. I’m pretty much in isolation either way.

And… Ugh. This is gonna sound crazy. Absolutely fucking crazy. But I’ll add it in, because it’s also true. I think my skull is smaller. Yeah, yeah. I know that’s impossible. But… I put my head in my hands and it didn’t feel right. I expected my skull to be bigger, to have a greater gap between my hands. Now…this personal sense of your body can’t really be faked. You know your own body. You know your own hands, your face, everything. You KNOW how your head feels when you rest it in your hands. So WHY do I have this strange yet strong feeling that my skull is smaller than it was a day ago? It isn’t right. It isn’t right at all.

Best to cut this off, then, and talk to T. The house Master of All That Is Strange. Oh, he’s gonna love this one!

I know I do.

Bread crumbs

Dark. Like, Mordor at the peak of its strength dark. Holy hell. It was 1:30 in the afternoon while I was on the tram headed to my appointment, and lights were needed everywhere. It was a late evening twilight. Had a short, startling break when I left my appointment: a break in the cloud cover that allowed real sunlight to get through. Again, I was struck by the late feeling of it all. The sun streamed in low, from the west. It was only 2:45, but it looked like sunset. I enjoyed the brief respite, gazed into the sunlight and admired how the buildings stood out so sharply against the darkening eastern sky. By the time I made it home, around 3:20, every light on the street was needed again.

Had an interim appointment. My regular doc is out on maternity leave, so I saw someone on staff. No biggie; I’m an old hand at my RA. He was a nice guy. We spoke in Dutch first, but when I had to ask a question about what he said, we switched to English (which he was also fluent in). What surprised me was that I was told to make an appointment in 4 months, not my usual 6. My regular doc wants to make sure to see me as soon as she’s back in rotation. I appreciate that. No real reason for it; I’m doing absolutely fine. But I like that she thinks it’s important.

And, oh! I felt so bad for this woman at the rheumatologist’s! She was young, maybe in her early 30s. And she was in pain. That real bad RA pain that’s in every joint, making every move agony. I saw it the in the way she moved. She was filling out forms, and I’m guessing she’s a new patient. I didn’t talk to her, but my heart went out to her. At least I know she’ll get the care she needs. But it’s painful for me even to remember how she moved. It brings me back to my early years with this disease.

Odd note: Obviously I was off my computer for a good chunk of time in the afternoon, when I’d usually be playing non-stop. But, I had to take paracetamol for a headache last night. So it’s not eye strain? WTF? Or was that just something different? Good Goddess! This isn’t over, is it?

NL news: Ugh. Today the news outlets are actually saying that daily infections are ‘slowing’ in the low 20,000s. Nobody flip flops on outlooks like news stations! Right now, we’re supposed to feel good about 20 thousand some infections a day because it’s ‘slowing’. Reports out yesterday about still born births in unvaccinated mothers who catch the virus. And they’re actually debating on whether or not to issue some sort of fine or punitive punishment to that couple that skipped isolation. Watched Dutch news for quite a while yesterday (T was late coming out of his room for evening tv). Saw a politician say pretty much what I was saying: there’s no law to punish them under, so NL kind of has its hands tied. We all agree they did wrong, but there’s no legal recourse for any kind of justice. Dare I say it? This is gonna be a big problem for a lot of nations, ’cause NL isn’t the only one in this bind.

Tomorrow I get to wake up even earlier than usual. Checked; my fysio appointment is at 8 am. Mm. Well, I was up by 8am today. In no condition to go anywhere or do anything other than head straight to the toilet for my morning pee, but at least I’m in the neighbourhood of an early start. Fun, fun.

Found a good spot to be in yesterday. It was work to get there, but in the end I managed it. Not quite as strong as that natural flow of self love and acceptance, but strong enough that I enjoyed it. Want that to be my priority. Restore my sense of calm and self love before anything else [sorry; I just can’t let that go without adding because I’m worth it even though it’s a tired and overused marketing catch phrase].

Most importantly, I have to make a few decisions. My time in out in the city yesterday reinforced just how out of shape I was. I was forced in several situations to use the stairs, and was out of breath every time. I now realise my looks aren’t so much the issue; I don’t see myself and that’s all for out there. But how out breath I get, or how fast I can take the stairs, or how fast my heart beats (and how long it takes to slow down) – now THAT’S what I experience. My decisions should be based on those factors, not the cosmetic shit. No one has said ‘you’re too fat’. In fact, the only people who have ever uttered those words to me were all assholes trying to use reverse psychology or some other underhanded method to get under my skin. Hmmm….

For many, many decades of my life, I liked to be ‘fight ready’. Fit enough I could handle myself well in a hand to hand situation. That was because I always felt like I was fighting. Circumstances, the Universe, life itself: I had to fight to get through it. I expected a fight. But this new level isn’t like that. I don’t feel so on edge. I don’t feel I have to be so ready for a fight. Where does that leave me?

Not. a. clue. This is all new territory to me.

And this blog has kind of turned into my trail of bread crumbs, marking my progress (or lack thereof). Goddess! I’m not even sure where I’m headed with all this! Zen? Some higher level of understanding and self acceptance? Unlocking the fucking mysteries of the Universe? Should I even give a fuck? Why ask why? It just is. I just am. You just are. My only hope is that once in a while my words and observations will make a difference in someone else’s life. Maybe, by writing this madness down for no apparent reason, I’ll help someone dodge a pitfall or see a little more of their own truth.

Lofty ambition for someone who doesn’t know where the hell she’s headed.

Well, maybe all I am offering is bread. Simple, basic stuff that other people sussed out long ago. So, it isn’t cake. Nothing special. Nothing even to write about, if I’m honest. But this is my day to day. Truly, it’s my bread and butter. How I survive. I’m not so arrogant as to think I’m unique in my thrashings around. We’re all thrashing around, trying to figure it all out on the fly.

Leaving trails of bread crumbs behind us.