I. I wore a racerback tank top for a few hours on Monday and it exacerbated my thoracic outlet syndrome. Usually, I’d go for acupuncture, because that’s been the only thing that works. I’m way too paranoid to go out into the world, though, so I’m nerve flossing, doing heat and cold (mostly heat), and resting it. Tried to move some pens from one container to another today and it set my shoulder on fire. Being in pain makes me stabbity.
*Pops Robax, Slathers on the Voltaren. Stays in bed.*
I feel so much empathy for those for whom being in pain every day all day is just a thing. Like, whoa. How are you not in a perpetual state of stabbity?
II. It’s been a time. *Sigh* I’ve been avoiding writing because I am sick of myself. I’ve been practicing all manner of escapism instead. Married At First Sight. Audiobooks. Naps. I took the month of December off therapy because I feel like poking the trauma bear is fucking stupid right now. You can’t heal trauma while you’re *in* a trauma. So yes. Hiatus. Focusing on the foundational stuff. Eating, for example. Sleeping. Trying not to be stabbity. Failing sometimes.
And that’s okay. I’m human.
We do what we have to do.
III. My eldest son & youngest daughter have been balms on my soul and I just wanted to mention it, because noticing the things that are a balm on my soul help me feel a little less stabbity.
IV. This meme popped up on Facebook and it was a punch to the gut.
*ETERNAL PRIMAL SCREAMING*
V. I am using humour to deflect in all my affairs. And that’s okay. We do what we have to do.
VI. Vaccine approvals are rolling in. I have little sparks of optimism flaring in my dark heart.
I know there are already problems reported (allergic reactions) and I know I probably won’t get it until sometime next fall, but at least there’s an end in sight.
*Rolls up sleeve and waits her turn*.
VII. One of the worst things about this pandemic is what it’s done to my ability to trust people. I have always prided myself on how *unguarded* I am despite *waves at my entire life* but that is *definitely* changing. This worries me. I like myself when I’m soft and accepting and full of grace. I do not like this hardness I’m starting to experience around my edges. I am definitely more thorn than rose and getting thornier.
VIII. “Why can’t we all just get along?” some might ask (COVID deniers, anti-maskers, QAnon, conspiracy theorists, racists, trans & homophobes – I’m looking at you.)
Because 2020 has been pressure cooking us down to our essence, and your essence appears to be self-serving fucking garbage.
IX. I hired a personal assistant. She hasn’t started yet because I can’t have people in my space right now (I’m very stabbity), but once she does start, I am going to be so relieved to have some of the things that are falling through the cracks taken care of for me.
This, and all the resting and refusal to push myself over this shoulder injury is notable progress in the arena of self-loyalty.
I’ll take it.
X. I know we’re all going to be changed by this experience. I am hoping to benefit from the way I will be changed. I can already feel my boundaries shifting more and more in the direction of self-protection.
Do no harm. Take no shit.
I am hoping this cynicism and mistrust doesn’t slide all the way over to misanthropy, butandalso, this year, man. This fucking year.
Fuck this year.
P.S. On the other hand, I am still making art regularly, so I’m calling that a win.