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I miss living somewhere where I could see the sky easily. Here it's just ugliness everywhere, except straight up. Which is hard on the neck after a while.
I used to write really poetically about the sky all of the time. Not so much, lately. Part of that is probably just the time of year. I did finally go for a very short walk today, in the park where I bought mom's memorial bench. The park where I grew up. The park where I took her to visit every week, the last five or so years of her life, when she couldn't go anywhere without my help anymore, when her dementia got really bad. She became to afraid to go to art therapy or any other activity groups that the state provided her. But she would still let me take her out, until closer toward the end, when she got too scared even for that. I remember once in the car, she just looked around, here eyes so frightened, and said so quietly, "I don't know where I am...." :(
Not long after that she lost her temper in her favorite cafe, and I stopped taking her anywhere in public other than a park that was nearby her living facility. Her walking slowed until I could only push her in a wheelchair. Until she fell out of bed and broke her pelvis, and was no longer able to go out at all.
Poor mom.
The park was soooooo grey. So misty. There were a few soggy mushrooms. Lots of doggos. I'm finally not afraid of dogs anymore, and don't want to scream in rage when people have them off leash anymore. After our neighbor's pitbull attacked me and Avalanche on Sept 1. He shoved past me while I tried to block him from our door and forced himself into the apartment and grabbed Avalanche by the ribcage. Although she didn't have any major injuries, because it happened while we were coming inside from an on-leash walk, (he was let off leash by our neighbor, obviously), she refuses to let me take her outside anymore, and won't go near the door.
I am sad about her poor quality of life, never getting to go outside. In an apartment building with no balcony, there's no chance of creating any sort of catio for her. It's really sad. I try to play with her as much as I can. I even open the windows when Josh is not here. My husband hates it when I open the windows in the winter for her though, because our heat barely functions as it is and we are always cold.
Our best friend Tyler bought me puffy pants for a xmas present, knowing first-hand how cold our apartment is. I could not afford such a thing, but he gets these pro deals or something. So kind of him. Josh got himself a pair months ago. I put them on every morning when I get out of bed, now.
...
The xmas tree is back in the garage already. I strung white lights up where the colored ones were. This is by far the earliest I've ever put away xmas decorations. But, Josh did a devastating thing to me on xmas, and I have not gotten over it, and currently have no interest in thinking about that loathed holiday.
Hopefully this isn't permanent, as I've always loved xmas until now. I'm no longer christian but I clung dearly to certain elements of the tradition I was raised in. the decorations, the tree, the stockings, the music, the baking, the cards, i loved it all so much. (All the pagan aspects of it, interestingly.) some of that might recede, I think. my feelings about time with my step-family might recede. while they try to accept me and are kind, they do not understand me, they have not shown much interest or care for me outside of annual holiday visits, and (not their fault), they do not feel like family.
my step-dad is no longer well enough to attend the gatherings, and he has said some awful things to me recently, about the past, things I'd rather not have ever known, so while i do continue to visit him at his place and try to help him when i can, from time to time, i am trying not to invest so much emotional energy into that family, other than my step-brother jim, who is an angel. and the only other atheist in the family. (funny how the kindest, most thoughtful, honest people are the least religious, so often.) i look after his cats. reminds me i need to get his surgery dates for February and see if he'd like a ride to/from the hospital. he's had some health troubles over the last year, poor guy.
it is strange being almost 50. i keep threatening to stop dying my extremely grey hair. i really want to grow it out, but, i know Josh would be devastated, so I don't. sigh.
my eyes don't tolerate contact lenses for more than a few hours here or there, anymore, which is so strange. I never wore glasses before and the process of "getting used" to them feels impossible.
it's such a constant struggle to not "let oneself go" and i get so tired of trying to groom and keep up with a body with such strange skin markings and sags and wrinkles and hot flashes and tendency toward weight gain if I look at carbs sideways and just, what? what even is this.
and then there are moments when i still feel beautiful, and strangers gush over me in public out of nowhere.
it's a very odd time. kind of straddling vibrance and old age.
epiphany tomorrow. it feels like it should have some sort of meaning. i made sweet potato banana blueberry pancakes for josh tonight. he was thrilled. feels a little celebratory, in a way. i'm drinking one of my n/a beers. i should finish off my unsweetened cranberry juice, as i'm still home-bound, fighting off a urinary tract infection. part of me wants to bake gingerbread cookies. i almost bought the gingerbread my little pony off ebay, she was my favorite as a child, i used to set her out on the counter with me while i baked gingerbread cookies as a kid. but i was sitting there contemplating the purchase and thinking about baking cookies with my mom as a kiddo and started sobbing. so i think, maybe I shouldn't get the pony.
someone wrote on nextdoor: "happy epiphany to those who deserve it." !?! that's just about the least christian/christ-like sentiment i've ever heard. what does that even mean, actually? epiphany is only about gratitude for the spirit of forgiveness, and peace, and love. jeeeeeez. christians can be so mean. you never see atheists say stuff like that. life is hard enough as it is. who hurt them so much that they feel the need to hurt random strangers? was it the baby jesus who did that to them? did he not applaud their drumming?
i think Under Pressure is a better holiday song.
Insanity laughs, under pressure we're breaking
Can't we give love one more chance?
Why can't we give that love one more chance?
Why can't we give love, give love, give love....
'Cause love's such an old-fashioned word
And love dares you to care for the people on the
Edge of the night
And love dares you to change our way of
Caring about ourselves
This is our last dance
This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under pressure.
I remember a period of my life where I kept overhearing people in their late 60s-early 70s bemoaning their fate that they have to keep enduring existence and they don't know what they're supposed to do with the next 10-15 years of life and how they were dreading it. And I remember feeling so horrified at the concept, as, at the time, I was newly exploring life with Josh and learning how to do new things and so full of hope for the future.
I understand it better, now.
Those of us who had poor modeling and never developed strong coping mechanisms, will always struggle, and always be afraid, and will continue to suffer more deeply as we age, I fear. I fear aging a really lot very much.
I am so impressed with anyone over 50 who is persevering. 60s and 70s and into 80s, now you're approaching god-like status, in my eyes. Granted, some of them still have parents, or if they don't, they had supportive ones. Those of us who didn't, though, or who were actively abused and harmed by our families - oof. Some folks just have strong spirits, though. My step-dad was supported by his mom, but not by his father, and he's hanging in there, better than could be reasonably expected. I feel that he still may have things to teach me, in his wisdom. I just wish the lessons wouldn't come with shocking confessions of past wrongs he committed. why tell me that. to test my love? i guess maybe to test my love. still here. sigh.
maybe tomorrow will be better. hopefully my meds will work. I still feel pretty rough.
i am so grateful for my husband, for my cat, for nourishing food, for shelter and relative safety, for the walk in the misty damp dark park, today, for my little blue car, for my friends, for electricity and heat, for a soft bed and sweaters and blankets, for music and audiobooks and strange little podcasts, for art and expression, for my sobriety, wow, being sober is amazing. it is so freeing. for the glittery pen from andrea. for blackstrap molasses - maybe i'll bake cookies tomorrow. for clean drinking water. for my feather duster. for kind silly messages and internet entertainment. for comedy specials that reach my heart in unique ways. for not having lost my grandmother's wedding band that i use as a wedding ring. for the kindness of my customers and people who seem to sincerely hear me when i express my pain. for aerial silks, for stripy socks, for wool sweaters and socks, for snow on the mountain, for spider plants, for popcorn, for butter, for mushrooms, for the way Avalanche sits with Josh while he eats or watches TV with him contentedly, how she brings me her toys into the bed in the mornings and paws at me with the softest little mews.... there are endless miracles in this world.
I used to write really poetically about the sky all of the time. Not so much, lately. Part of that is probably just the time of year. I did finally go for a very short walk today, in the park where I bought mom's memorial bench. The park where I grew up. The park where I took her to visit every week, the last five or so years of her life, when she couldn't go anywhere without my help anymore, when her dementia got really bad. She became to afraid to go to art therapy or any other activity groups that the state provided her. But she would still let me take her out, until closer toward the end, when she got too scared even for that. I remember once in the car, she just looked around, here eyes so frightened, and said so quietly, "I don't know where I am...." :(
Not long after that she lost her temper in her favorite cafe, and I stopped taking her anywhere in public other than a park that was nearby her living facility. Her walking slowed until I could only push her in a wheelchair. Until she fell out of bed and broke her pelvis, and was no longer able to go out at all.
Poor mom.
The park was soooooo grey. So misty. There were a few soggy mushrooms. Lots of doggos. I'm finally not afraid of dogs anymore, and don't want to scream in rage when people have them off leash anymore. After our neighbor's pitbull attacked me and Avalanche on Sept 1. He shoved past me while I tried to block him from our door and forced himself into the apartment and grabbed Avalanche by the ribcage. Although she didn't have any major injuries, because it happened while we were coming inside from an on-leash walk, (he was let off leash by our neighbor, obviously), she refuses to let me take her outside anymore, and won't go near the door.
I am sad about her poor quality of life, never getting to go outside. In an apartment building with no balcony, there's no chance of creating any sort of catio for her. It's really sad. I try to play with her as much as I can. I even open the windows when Josh is not here. My husband hates it when I open the windows in the winter for her though, because our heat barely functions as it is and we are always cold.
Our best friend Tyler bought me puffy pants for a xmas present, knowing first-hand how cold our apartment is. I could not afford such a thing, but he gets these pro deals or something. So kind of him. Josh got himself a pair months ago. I put them on every morning when I get out of bed, now.
...
The xmas tree is back in the garage already. I strung white lights up where the colored ones were. This is by far the earliest I've ever put away xmas decorations. But, Josh did a devastating thing to me on xmas, and I have not gotten over it, and currently have no interest in thinking about that loathed holiday.
Hopefully this isn't permanent, as I've always loved xmas until now. I'm no longer christian but I clung dearly to certain elements of the tradition I was raised in. the decorations, the tree, the stockings, the music, the baking, the cards, i loved it all so much. (All the pagan aspects of it, interestingly.) some of that might recede, I think. my feelings about time with my step-family might recede. while they try to accept me and are kind, they do not understand me, they have not shown much interest or care for me outside of annual holiday visits, and (not their fault), they do not feel like family.
my step-dad is no longer well enough to attend the gatherings, and he has said some awful things to me recently, about the past, things I'd rather not have ever known, so while i do continue to visit him at his place and try to help him when i can, from time to time, i am trying not to invest so much emotional energy into that family, other than my step-brother jim, who is an angel. and the only other atheist in the family. (funny how the kindest, most thoughtful, honest people are the least religious, so often.) i look after his cats. reminds me i need to get his surgery dates for February and see if he'd like a ride to/from the hospital. he's had some health troubles over the last year, poor guy.
it is strange being almost 50. i keep threatening to stop dying my extremely grey hair. i really want to grow it out, but, i know Josh would be devastated, so I don't. sigh.
my eyes don't tolerate contact lenses for more than a few hours here or there, anymore, which is so strange. I never wore glasses before and the process of "getting used" to them feels impossible.
it's such a constant struggle to not "let oneself go" and i get so tired of trying to groom and keep up with a body with such strange skin markings and sags and wrinkles and hot flashes and tendency toward weight gain if I look at carbs sideways and just, what? what even is this.
and then there are moments when i still feel beautiful, and strangers gush over me in public out of nowhere.
it's a very odd time. kind of straddling vibrance and old age.
epiphany tomorrow. it feels like it should have some sort of meaning. i made sweet potato banana blueberry pancakes for josh tonight. he was thrilled. feels a little celebratory, in a way. i'm drinking one of my n/a beers. i should finish off my unsweetened cranberry juice, as i'm still home-bound, fighting off a urinary tract infection. part of me wants to bake gingerbread cookies. i almost bought the gingerbread my little pony off ebay, she was my favorite as a child, i used to set her out on the counter with me while i baked gingerbread cookies as a kid. but i was sitting there contemplating the purchase and thinking about baking cookies with my mom as a kiddo and started sobbing. so i think, maybe I shouldn't get the pony.
someone wrote on nextdoor: "happy epiphany to those who deserve it." !?! that's just about the least christian/christ-like sentiment i've ever heard. what does that even mean, actually? epiphany is only about gratitude for the spirit of forgiveness, and peace, and love. jeeeeeez. christians can be so mean. you never see atheists say stuff like that. life is hard enough as it is. who hurt them so much that they feel the need to hurt random strangers? was it the baby jesus who did that to them? did he not applaud their drumming?
i think Under Pressure is a better holiday song.
Insanity laughs, under pressure we're breaking
Can't we give love one more chance?
Why can't we give that love one more chance?
Why can't we give love, give love, give love....
'Cause love's such an old-fashioned word
And love dares you to care for the people on the
Edge of the night
And love dares you to change our way of
Caring about ourselves
This is our last dance
This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under pressure.
I remember a period of my life where I kept overhearing people in their late 60s-early 70s bemoaning their fate that they have to keep enduring existence and they don't know what they're supposed to do with the next 10-15 years of life and how they were dreading it. And I remember feeling so horrified at the concept, as, at the time, I was newly exploring life with Josh and learning how to do new things and so full of hope for the future.
I understand it better, now.
Those of us who had poor modeling and never developed strong coping mechanisms, will always struggle, and always be afraid, and will continue to suffer more deeply as we age, I fear. I fear aging a really lot very much.
I am so impressed with anyone over 50 who is persevering. 60s and 70s and into 80s, now you're approaching god-like status, in my eyes. Granted, some of them still have parents, or if they don't, they had supportive ones. Those of us who didn't, though, or who were actively abused and harmed by our families - oof. Some folks just have strong spirits, though. My step-dad was supported by his mom, but not by his father, and he's hanging in there, better than could be reasonably expected. I feel that he still may have things to teach me, in his wisdom. I just wish the lessons wouldn't come with shocking confessions of past wrongs he committed. why tell me that. to test my love? i guess maybe to test my love. still here. sigh.
maybe tomorrow will be better. hopefully my meds will work. I still feel pretty rough.
i am so grateful for my husband, for my cat, for nourishing food, for shelter and relative safety, for the walk in the misty damp dark park, today, for my little blue car, for my friends, for electricity and heat, for a soft bed and sweaters and blankets, for music and audiobooks and strange little podcasts, for art and expression, for my sobriety, wow, being sober is amazing. it is so freeing. for the glittery pen from andrea. for blackstrap molasses - maybe i'll bake cookies tomorrow. for clean drinking water. for my feather duster. for kind silly messages and internet entertainment. for comedy specials that reach my heart in unique ways. for not having lost my grandmother's wedding band that i use as a wedding ring. for the kindness of my customers and people who seem to sincerely hear me when i express my pain. for aerial silks, for stripy socks, for wool sweaters and socks, for snow on the mountain, for spider plants, for popcorn, for butter, for mushrooms, for the way Avalanche sits with Josh while he eats or watches TV with him contentedly, how she brings me her toys into the bed in the mornings and paws at me with the softest little mews.... there are endless miracles in this world.
