(no subject)

Shape it, goddammit. Or wait it the fuck out. Those are the only two options I see at the moment.

But now, I'm restless and not 100% certain I'm being who I want to be. But there's nothing to change at the moment, I'm couch-bound, now with the added bonus of a headcold. I've settled into this weird in between time, not working, not feeling like I'm entirely in my body or in my head. (and oh, is it weird to have a part of my body I can't feel at all.)

I'm trying to dull things down, to find a way to retreat into my cave a little bit, build up walls of counted cross stitch, young adult fantasy novels and a truly ludicrous amount of greek yogurt. I can't afford to be restless, it's not going to do anything for me except knock me flat on my ass. Hell, a couple days ago I did a load of dishes and was exhausted for the rest of the day.

For all that I consider myself a consummately lazy woman, I'm not entirely okay with inactivity. I head down all these rabbit holes, all these self-defeating spirals if I leave myself alone with my thoughts too long, as if my resting state is corrosive.

So I dump all my ideas in a document labeled "brilliant ideas had while recovering" and keep picking up the same dense novels and putting them down, defeated by the end of the first chapter. I know it's of no use to berate myself, and I try to shoot myself down as soon as it starts, but I'm a tricky girl and can even feel bad about feeling bad.

Light's off to new york for the entire week of 10/10. I don't know yet if I'm going back to work that week (or the week before), but either way, I'll be home alone, tending to the dog and the house and my own fragile emotional state. I think this job change will be awesome for me, and it turns out things that make him happy are awesome for me as well.

I'm hoping to talk my PCP into giving me the hepatic ultrasound we've been flirting with. In my perfect world, I will just put 2011 down in the books as the Year of Medical Procedures, though I'm not dedicated enough to that idea to seek out the next round of gum surgery I'll need. But maybe I can even have the second round of breast surgery by the end of December.

I'm driving myself a little bit crazy about my five year anniversary. We're hitting Journeyan, and Light seems to have a plethora of gifts for me, and I've only got one for him, and it won't even be here in time. And he'll tell me I look lovely in whatever I decide to wear, but I'd still like to not cry on the day of. And he tells me it's just a date, and we can celebrate later, and I know that I'm not really ruining our five year anniversary so much as trying to preserve the idea of a twenty fifth but it still feels like a little bit of a failure on my part.

But for now, it will be an evening of frozen yogurt and cold medicine and some trashy tv.

(no subject)

Shape it, goddammit. Or wait it the fuck out. Those are the only two options I see at the moment.

But now, I'm restless and not 100% certain I'm being who I want to be. But there's nothing to change at the moment, I'm couch-bound, now with the added bonus of a headcold. I've settled into this weird in between time, not working, not feeling like I'm entirely in my body or in my head. (and oh, is it weird to have a part of my body I can't feel at all.)

I'm trying to dull things down, to find a way to retreat into my cave a little bit, build up walls of counted cross stitch, young adult fantasy novels and a truly ludicrous amount of greek yogurt. I can't afford to be restless, it's not going to do anything for me except knock me flat on my ass. Hell, a couple days ago I did a load of dishes and was exhausted for the rest of the day.

For all that I consider myself a consummately lazy woman, I'm not entirely okay with inactivity. I head down all these rabbit holes, all these self-defeating spirals if I leave myself alone with my thoughts too long, as if my resting state is corrosive.

So I dump all my ideas in a document labeled "brilliant ideas had while recovering" and keep picking up the same dense novels and putting them down, defeated by the end of the first chapter. I know it's of no use to berate myself, and I try to shoot myself down as soon as it starts, but I'm a tricky girl and can even feel bad about feeling bad.

Light's off to new york for the entire week of 10/10. I don't know yet if I'm going back to work that week (or the week before), but either way, I'll be home alone, tending to the dog and the house and my own fragile emotional state. I think this job change will be awesome for me, and it turns out things that make him happy are awesome for me as well.

I'm hoping to talk my PCP into giving me the hepatic ultrasound we've been flirting with. In my perfect world, I will just put 2011 down in the books as the Year of Medical Procedures, though I'm not dedicated enough to that idea to seek out the next round of gum surgery I'll need. But maybe I can even have the second round of breast surgery by the end of December.

I'm driving myself a little bit crazy about my five year anniversary. We're hitting Journeyan, and Light seems to have a plethora of gifts for me, and I've only got one for him, and it won't even be here in time. And he'll tell me I look lovely in whatever I decide to wear, but I'd still like to not cry on the day of. And he tells me it's just a date, and we can celebrate later, and I know that I'm not really ruining our five year anniversary so much as trying to preserve the idea of a twenty fifth but it still feels like a little bit of a failure on my part.

But for now, it will be an evening of frozen yogurt and cold medicine and some trashy tv.