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51 should not feel this old.
Jun. 3rd, 2026 06:01 pmeagles are having dindins. so cute.
I am (shocker) so so sad today. Last night at some point after 8:45pm, my sore right foot that kept me away from Tyler and Silver Star Mountain yesterday decided to go into full blown plantar fasciitis. I couldn't walk, I couldn't weight it, it was extremely painful and would send jolts of pain any time I moved wrong - there were very few movements that did not hurt.
It's so upsetting and frustrating, a) because I have been babying this one good foot ever since I got plantar fasciitis in the left foot 3 years ago - I quit running, quit skating, quit rock climbing, quit a BUNCH of stuff that kept me healthy and happy, to be able to hopefully at *least* keep hiking and to not be in pain.
I haven't done any hard physical activity since last Tuesday's Saddle Mountain hike. I biked and had small gentle walks on my softest shoes and otherwise just rested.
I've been doing aerial gently, I've been doing my stretches, I've been wearing my recovery slippers in the house and at work without fail, and I was in the middle of purposefully resting.
And then this happened.
I was afraid I might not be able to work tomorrow, but it has eased up a bit and I can at least slowly walk now, sometimes with a limp and sometimes not. I will just have to go slow and be careful, tomorrow.
It was such a glorious beautiful day today (and yesterday) and I'm trapped motionless when the only thing that makes me feel better is movement. It's torture and so depressing and so scary.
I see people older than me who are able to run and whose hands aren't swollen and who seem to float through life on bodies that do not give them constant pain and I AM SO JEALOUS and just bitter and sad.
This suuuuuux.
I do always feel better when I'm cooking, so I made a big fancy bunch of food for Josh and a rhubarb pie - though I sorta mis-timed the pie and it didn't quite cook long enough so it's a bit soupy which is disappointing, but, it still tastes good and it's only the first one of the year, so, I can try again.
sigh.
I just sort of want to crawl into bed at 6pm (with the sun still high and sparkling) and call it, it's just too sad to be awake right now. My back hurts, my hands hurt, my brain hurts, my tinnitis hurts, I am accidentally not clicking away from dementia videos and thinking about my dead parents too much, gah.
At least. Josh is really happy about the current state of the garage. We got rid of the other window unit a/c and stacked the paint onto a small folding shelf I brought from the old garage, and he was finally able to hang his bike, something he wanted to do as soon as we moved in but couldn't because there was too much stuff in the way. This takes the pressure off of me having to rush through trying to get rid of more stuff. It's stressful and upsetting and something I need to do slowly. I think my next two steps are to get some of my art supplies back to the studio, and to re-create a new emergency earthquake bin for my car. (This is a bin I designed for a Katrina-like circumstance, where we are living out of a shelter and have water drop-offs but might not want to be entirely dependent on their clothing, food, and shelter while we temporarily for relief. So, a little water but I am assuming we'll be able to find a cooking source eventually, sleeping pads, blankets and camping pillows, a change of clean clothing or two, raincoat, maybe a tarp, a little canned food and water, lights, batteries and battery packs, basic first aid, soap and hand sanitizer, rags/paper towels, knife/scissors, toiletries/medications, maaaybe a tent if I feel like putting my backpacking tent in there. But we could sleep in my car if we had to, it's not perfect but it is flat in the back when the seats are folded down, which is part of the reason I wanted it.) It's not really that urgent but just something that makes me feel at ease, being someone with chronic high anxiety. I've always been afraid of "the big one" the entire time I've lived here. We've been told we're hundreds of years overdue for this earthquake, our city is not at all prepared and it will take down all seven of our bridges (the Markham "might" survive. Tilikum will but it's a pedestrian bridge). It's one of the reasons I didn't want to buy a house.
Just feeling completely paralyzed by pain right now. And... grateful for soupy rhubarb pie and sunshine. And the fact that there's not been an earthquake yet.
I am (shocker) so so sad today. Last night at some point after 8:45pm, my sore right foot that kept me away from Tyler and Silver Star Mountain yesterday decided to go into full blown plantar fasciitis. I couldn't walk, I couldn't weight it, it was extremely painful and would send jolts of pain any time I moved wrong - there were very few movements that did not hurt.
It's so upsetting and frustrating, a) because I have been babying this one good foot ever since I got plantar fasciitis in the left foot 3 years ago - I quit running, quit skating, quit rock climbing, quit a BUNCH of stuff that kept me healthy and happy, to be able to hopefully at *least* keep hiking and to not be in pain.
I haven't done any hard physical activity since last Tuesday's Saddle Mountain hike. I biked and had small gentle walks on my softest shoes and otherwise just rested.
I've been doing aerial gently, I've been doing my stretches, I've been wearing my recovery slippers in the house and at work without fail, and I was in the middle of purposefully resting.
And then this happened.
I was afraid I might not be able to work tomorrow, but it has eased up a bit and I can at least slowly walk now, sometimes with a limp and sometimes not. I will just have to go slow and be careful, tomorrow.
It was such a glorious beautiful day today (and yesterday) and I'm trapped motionless when the only thing that makes me feel better is movement. It's torture and so depressing and so scary.
I see people older than me who are able to run and whose hands aren't swollen and who seem to float through life on bodies that do not give them constant pain and I AM SO JEALOUS and just bitter and sad.
This suuuuuux.
I do always feel better when I'm cooking, so I made a big fancy bunch of food for Josh and a rhubarb pie - though I sorta mis-timed the pie and it didn't quite cook long enough so it's a bit soupy which is disappointing, but, it still tastes good and it's only the first one of the year, so, I can try again.
sigh.
I just sort of want to crawl into bed at 6pm (with the sun still high and sparkling) and call it, it's just too sad to be awake right now. My back hurts, my hands hurt, my brain hurts, my tinnitis hurts, I am accidentally not clicking away from dementia videos and thinking about my dead parents too much, gah.
At least. Josh is really happy about the current state of the garage. We got rid of the other window unit a/c and stacked the paint onto a small folding shelf I brought from the old garage, and he was finally able to hang his bike, something he wanted to do as soon as we moved in but couldn't because there was too much stuff in the way. This takes the pressure off of me having to rush through trying to get rid of more stuff. It's stressful and upsetting and something I need to do slowly. I think my next two steps are to get some of my art supplies back to the studio, and to re-create a new emergency earthquake bin for my car. (This is a bin I designed for a Katrina-like circumstance, where we are living out of a shelter and have water drop-offs but might not want to be entirely dependent on their clothing, food, and shelter while we temporarily for relief. So, a little water but I am assuming we'll be able to find a cooking source eventually, sleeping pads, blankets and camping pillows, a change of clean clothing or two, raincoat, maybe a tarp, a little canned food and water, lights, batteries and battery packs, basic first aid, soap and hand sanitizer, rags/paper towels, knife/scissors, toiletries/medications, maaaybe a tent if I feel like putting my backpacking tent in there. But we could sleep in my car if we had to, it's not perfect but it is flat in the back when the seats are folded down, which is part of the reason I wanted it.) It's not really that urgent but just something that makes me feel at ease, being someone with chronic high anxiety. I've always been afraid of "the big one" the entire time I've lived here. We've been told we're hundreds of years overdue for this earthquake, our city is not at all prepared and it will take down all seven of our bridges (the Markham "might" survive. Tilikum will but it's a pedestrian bridge). It's one of the reasons I didn't want to buy a house.
Just feeling completely paralyzed by pain right now. And... grateful for soupy rhubarb pie and sunshine. And the fact that there's not been an earthquake yet.
