I’m actually a little surprised just how tired I was. I didn’t realize it until I woke up from my nap. A nap that was supposed to last a grand total of 2 hours max… and ended up being 5 hours of deep, uninterrupted sleep. I didn’t even toss and turn from the pain but woke up in the exact position I’d dozed off in.
It is not the ache upon the solar plexus or sinking of the heart, but the silent creep of tiredness and, concealed within that tiredness shadow…. apathy.
The interest in food dissolves, as does the drive toward self care. I focus on work so that I do not fall behind, but there is little joy, only process. Mindless process where by I go through the motions that move me along one step at a time.
I try to push back, but there is nothing to push against, and nothing to push with. It is all shadow and mirror, no substance and thus nothing to grasp or defeat. After all, how do you wage war a shadow?
Twice, today. It’s an uncomfortable feeling and… unwarranted? I don’t know why I’d feel that way but I did.
Both times, it was at EC, while answering questions on the forum. The first was the thread I answered where someone was asking for help and advice considering long distance relationships. The second was in a thread where someone asked advice on starting a home business from a hobby.
I know my advice in both cases was good, and I am speaking from a place of experience as well in both instances. And yet…. somehow I feel hypocritical anyway.
I tell myself that I have a thriving online business, and thus I am in an excellent position to give advice on such things. Yet…. oddly I feel a fraud spouting hypocrisy. Same goes for the long distance relationship advice. We’ve been in a long distance relationship for 9 years. It’s had its ups and downs like all relationships do. So why do I feel as if I have no room to speak on the topic of long distance relationships?
I don’t understand why I feel this way… and yet it came up twice today.
I subscribe to a few blogs, mostly things like LifeHacker and household stuff because, well, anything to make the annoying little shit in life a little easier right?
So this evening I read an article from one of the blogs I follow that describes how to make “toilet bombs” for when your toilet is clogged.
Now, this is a big issue in our house, and seems to have become even more prevalent lately for some reason.
I eat a minimum of 5-6 full meals a day, that means the toilets here in the condo get a LOT of use, as you could imagine. And, my sister loves using tons of toilet paper.
Add to this that I recently started on a medication for my blood sugar that causes me to lose a good bit of it in my urine, which even with a Clorox bleach cake in the tank, is causing a mold growth issue (sugar feeds mold). In the bowl, that’s ok. Easy enough to clean it. But what about down in those pipes where it can grow unrestricted? This is, I suspect, the main reason that my toilets clog so much lately.
So anyway. I’m inspired by the post on One Good Thing by Jillee today, and you can bet I’m going to try her suggestion, because I have NO interest in snaking my toilet drains just to clean out mold build up, yeah? So…. I’ll give it a try and see what happens.
“Your life will be filled with struggle, strife, and woe.
There will be great love, and great pain.
There will be comfort, but not prosperity.
These troubles are lessons carried over from the life you left behind, and lessons needed for the life to come.”
At nine years old, a trusted friend with a remarkable gift did a tarot reading for me to get a picture of my future. That was the result, although it was not given to me until much later when asked for. There was more, of course, but that was the “theme” of my life that surfaced within the cards.
Ten years later, the same friend did the reading again. The cards were different, as were the words… but the theme was the same.
Over the years between that first reading and now, I’ve had my tarot read many times for many different reasons and with many goals in mind. I’ve done it for myself, and I’ve had others do it for me.
And whenever the question is about the “theme” of my life, the results are the same.
Next year, it will have been another ten years, and I will go back to that same friend again to have my tarot read regarding the theme of my life, just as I have in the last two decades prior.
I wonder, as I do with each reading, if the theme will change… or continue on as it has been.
Not my spirit, but my body. Sometimes, it drags on me. That constant pain is like paint chipping away on a broken slat. The break is there and can’t be fixed, and still year after year the paint keeps on wearing down and chipping away.
Sometimes, that’s how my pain feels. My back. My knee. My hip. My ankle. Shoulder. Elbow. Wrist. And that’s not even counting the pain from the scar tissue…. internal and external.
I suffer in silence. There is nothing anyone can do for it, there is no solution or resolution, no cure or magical healing that will take it away. Expressing one’s pain to others nothing but make them uncomfortable, so there is no point, yes?
I work hard to manage it with my physical activity, yoga and other stretching, meditation, physio, chiropractor, ice packs, massage, and when absolutely necessary, anti-inflammatories and pain relievers. And yet, it’s always there.
I try to ignore it, and for small fractions of time here and there, I succeed. And yet it’s still there. Always there.
Today, is one of those days where it refuses to be ignored. Instead of being able to ignore it for an hour here or there, it is ever present and nagging. I’m so tired of the pain. I can’t even remember or imagine what life is like without it.
My heart warmed with pride today, because last year this little boy was terrified of the water and would barely get close enough to stick his toes into the wading pool.
Although my neighbor and her son moved away a while ago, I’ve stayed in touch and enjoy visiting and being considered a “part of the family”. Over the past year, I’ve had a lot of talks with him about the water. About lakes and oceans, beaches and swimming pools. In June, I convinced him to take a swim class, which he agreed to as long as I came with him.
And look at him. A day at the water park and he had a blast. It wasn’t a big water park, and it wasn’t a big slide. But he did it on his own and was smiling both as he landed in the water, and as he waded out of the pool.
I consider that a success.
My little girl likes to snuggle. Any time I lie down, she comes running to come curl up with me. She might not stay long, but for at least a handful of minutes, she’ll cuddle up into me and knead while she purrs. Usually, she seems to stay until I fall asleep, then wanders off. Sometimes, she stays for hours.
It’s so nice. I loved Meanie a lot, but she was never a cuddly cat. She would lie ON me, but didn’t savor petting or want you to touch her in any way. Luna, on the other hand, likes it if I pet her and often enjoys when I curl my arm around her when she cuddles in.
It soothes my heart and sometimes, when I ache, I take a few minutes to lie down just so that I can have those moments with her.
Have you ever seen a light bulb go dim instead of burn out?
It’s the strangest thing. I use a 150 watt full spectrum light bulb in the lamp in my living room. Over the past few weeks, I’ve noticed that my living room seems more dim than usual. Then today, coming out of the kitchen, it was really dark in there.
Yet, the light bulb was still burning.
I went and got a new one anyway, because I figured it couldn’t possibly be my eyes playing tricks on me when it’s such a marked amount of darkness. And I was right. I changed the bulb and it’s now bright in the room again.
The puzzling part is that the bulb never actually burnt out. I’ve never heard of (or experienced) this happening before. I wouldn’t even have thought it could… and yet, there you have it.
You see that fly up there? The one buzzing around that young buck’s fuzzy horns?
That is my air conditioner.
At the beginning of the summer, the drone of this piece of machinery in my house is a subtle irritant. It brushes, prickly and uncomfortable, over the backs of my upper arms and shoulders. I fight to block it out, to ignore it’s touch upon my skin and go about my day.
As a child, I didn’t realize that not everyone could feel certain sounds. Feel them like a physical touch on the flesh or a flavor on the tongue. When I tried to express my discomfort or describe certain sounds, people looked at me like I’d lost my mind and my parents, concerned there was something wrong with me, took me to many doctors and I went through many tests.
I’m a synesthete, though. And it simply means that the wires connected to certain senses are a bit “crossed”. Sometimes, I wish that wasn’t the case.
Especially with the air conditioner.
Because by the end of the summer, the need for the air conditioner is still as strong as ever, but the sound of it has become more than just a subtle irritant pushed away to the back of my mind in an effort to ignore it. It’s a roaring inferno of needle pricks along the backs of my shoulders and upper arms. Painful and raw and constant.
My “slow crawl through hell” is almost over for the year, but I wish it was already gone.