vegan, foodie, cooking enthusiast, spoonie, just trying to put one foot in front of the other...


 Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter


 Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter

(Source: aseaofquotes)

today my two siblings, ages 29 and 44, raced their bikes up mount washington.

today i took four painkillers, two muscle relaxants, 2 oral NSAIDS, three topical NSAID applications, smoked a bunch of pot, took a hot epsom salt soak, iced down various body parts periodically, applied BioFreeze, and have KT-taped and braced myself into oblivion just to get through a “normal” day at home. i avoided every possible activity i could, large or small, yet the pain was constant.

yes, *my*most strenuous feat of the day was literally brushing my teeth, with which i genuinely struggled, even using an electric toothbrush and my non-dominant, non-flaring arm. OUCH, in so many ways ouch.

this shoulder is seriously concerning me. i should really call my doctor tomorrow, if i can face the prospect.

took my mum to grateful dead meet up at the movies. wish it had been a live performance with an audience rather than in-studio - half the atmosphere last year was the crowd shots. but it was still fun. (& damn- 1972 bob weir with his ponytail/mutton chop combo in those tight flare dark jeans and wine-colored fitted tee was fine as hell)

this day was emotionally much easier than the rest of the week’s been. i didn’t have the -constant- dark thoughts plaguing me around every corner, and i was able to eat one good sized nutritious meal (vegan buffalo tofu Caesar-ranch salad) and a few small snacks without feeling repulsed or even *that* disinterested. unfortunately, though, i’ve got yet another right wrist & right elbow tandem pain flare going. i’ve only got two pain pills left before i pick up a new bottle tomorrow, so i’m only taking the single pill smaller dose now, trying to stagger the remaining two to keep things as bearable as i can until i can get to the pharmacy. and a muscle relaxant and some mmj, a salonpas patch, some Voltaren (which i know i’m not supposed to use on top of the salonpas but am doing anyway; desperate times) and a kt-taping.

now it’s a matter of lying here enjoying a son volt album while waiting and hoping it all adds up to enough pain relief that the sedative properties of the MR knock me out and i sleep decently tonight. typing in bed certainly isn’t helping the pain any, so i’ll leave off here.

but before i do, unpopular opinion moment that reveals how over the tumblr-hill i am in terms of relevance (iow, i don’t expect anyone to care):
son volt > wilco
jay farrar> jeff tweedy.

Once again the sun has come up without my getting a moment’s rest. Crying came around four, hysterical sobbing not until five. I had to get out of the house so I grabbed walking poles and went for a walk on my quiet street. At least outside I’m not likely to bother anyone, and the humid air holds onto scent, sending my olfactory memory back to times before my heart was so broken, my nerves so shot and my hope gasping for air. I’ve lost so so much already, I don’t know how I can cope with losing any more. I have to make this stop, it’s a horror show.

i feel so done with everything that i want to end myself. sometimes i think if i can survive emotional states like this that last, in varying degrees, for years on end, it speaks to innate strength. but other times i think maybe it just illustrates where my cowardliness overwhelms my desire to spare myself further suffering and if i really had any self-respect i’d just get on with it.

i just feel like shrieking at the top of my lungs until i lose my voice, what’s the big deal

i’m a normally indulgent foodie who’s suddenly repulsed by eating and in fact struggling to even nourish herself adequately, and a lifelong sensualist who kind of never wants to have sex with another person ever again. all of this worries me tremendously -in part because it feels like metaphorical organ failure, like some of the most vital bits that have kept me going this far are shutting down, like the end is drawing closer.

god do i hate my fucking life. i thought tonight i’d get to sleep without sobbing but it’s nearly 4am, and here it finally comes. furious, hurt, terrified, ready to give up. again. getting so damn old.