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"like an arrow or a stone"
Feb. 8th, 2018 09:56 pmStarted this yesterday, went to bed before I posted. Added a lot more today.
I've been thinking a lot about the word swamped today. It felt very literal when it happened, like some weird wave of despair/anguish just swept over the fragile boat of my emotions and left me before sea level. In a marsh. With the kind of turtles that can break finger bones when they bite you. Though I don't know if those live in swamps now that I think to wonder.
I'm not even thinking in paragraph format, things flit through and pass by, leaving me with the taste of discontent and that clogged feeling in my sinuses of needing to cry and not crying. Maybe it's because I haven't been to the gym in a while, and it turns out I've surveyed my choices and the shower at the Healthworks in Cambridge, the fourth one on the right, right before the accessible shower is the absolute best place to cry that I've found.
I'm almost over the cold, though the weird jaw ache continues. Dentist on Tuesday - whee. So I guess that'll be my opportunity to cry too. I'm terrified of what I'm going to find out, I make every molehill of tooth pain into a mountain, and now I've found the studies that say I shouldn't even rely on my klonopin because it may make staying sober harder for some people. So, sheer bloody-mindedness and the ability to cry silently without moving will be the watchword, I guess.
I've been keeping track in my bullet journal of whatever I've been reading or listening to each day, and I flit from book to book a lot more than I realized I did, with occasional stretches of just forgetting to go to sleep and devouring something whole. I'm listening to Season One of Tremontaine, Winter Tide and Line in the Dark. I'm reading in paper form The Unseen City, A Study in Scarlet Women and a woo-woo workbook called Many Moons. And a book about adoption I forget the title of at the moment. Electronically, I'm reading Dress Codes for Small Towns and I actually finished Heroine Worship. BPL just emailed me to say that I now also have Waking Land out.
I'm tired in this weird slightly vacant way, like my brain is working too hard and not anywhere near hard enough all at once. And I don't know how much patience to have with myself, but my usual choices of none and none with a side of shame frosting don't seem to be cutting it. I want to center myself in all the narratives (which pairs oh-so-nicely with my desire to fade into the background), and I'm getting all these opportunities to practice that and it's good, I know it's best practices for being a decent human being/friend, but sometimes I just want to be unreasonable without any real understanding of what unreasonable would be. (except occasionally saying out loud the supermean things inside my head, and maybe a little bit of facepunching)
Also, I'm having a torrid love affair with lemon Noosa.
I've been thinking a lot about the word swamped today. It felt very literal when it happened, like some weird wave of despair/anguish just swept over the fragile boat of my emotions and left me before sea level. In a marsh. With the kind of turtles that can break finger bones when they bite you. Though I don't know if those live in swamps now that I think to wonder.
I'm not even thinking in paragraph format, things flit through and pass by, leaving me with the taste of discontent and that clogged feeling in my sinuses of needing to cry and not crying. Maybe it's because I haven't been to the gym in a while, and it turns out I've surveyed my choices and the shower at the Healthworks in Cambridge, the fourth one on the right, right before the accessible shower is the absolute best place to cry that I've found.
I'm almost over the cold, though the weird jaw ache continues. Dentist on Tuesday - whee. So I guess that'll be my opportunity to cry too. I'm terrified of what I'm going to find out, I make every molehill of tooth pain into a mountain, and now I've found the studies that say I shouldn't even rely on my klonopin because it may make staying sober harder for some people. So, sheer bloody-mindedness and the ability to cry silently without moving will be the watchword, I guess.
I've been keeping track in my bullet journal of whatever I've been reading or listening to each day, and I flit from book to book a lot more than I realized I did, with occasional stretches of just forgetting to go to sleep and devouring something whole. I'm listening to Season One of Tremontaine, Winter Tide and Line in the Dark. I'm reading in paper form The Unseen City, A Study in Scarlet Women and a woo-woo workbook called Many Moons. And a book about adoption I forget the title of at the moment. Electronically, I'm reading Dress Codes for Small Towns and I actually finished Heroine Worship. BPL just emailed me to say that I now also have Waking Land out.
I'm tired in this weird slightly vacant way, like my brain is working too hard and not anywhere near hard enough all at once. And I don't know how much patience to have with myself, but my usual choices of none and none with a side of shame frosting don't seem to be cutting it. I want to center myself in all the narratives (which pairs oh-so-nicely with my desire to fade into the background), and I'm getting all these opportunities to practice that and it's good, I know it's best practices for being a decent human being/friend, but sometimes I just want to be unreasonable without any real understanding of what unreasonable would be. (except occasionally saying out loud the supermean things inside my head, and maybe a little bit of facepunching)
Also, I'm having a torrid love affair with lemon Noosa.
