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In a week's time I'll hopefully be mostly if not entirely moved. I'm in the process of packing and it's going slowly and painfully, mostly because I'm utterly exhausted and keep bursting into tears. I am not coping well. I keep telling myself that I just have to get through this last week and hold it together and it's all done. Just so long as I do what I have to that's enough. I don't have to like it. I don't have to do it especially well. I just have to do it. Please god don't let me miss something important. The money is paid, the consent forms are sent. I still have to fill me post-op care shopping list, but that's not huge.

I'm having not grownup responses like wanting to curl into a ball and have someone else fix everything for me. This is not reasonable but then that doesn't appear to be a criterium for how I'm feeling at the moment. I guess this was never going to be an easy week. So I'm whining.

I'm whining because I feel awful and my body does things to me like make me cry randomly (like right now) and want to fall asleep at inopportune moments and because I want to have this record of me whining so I can look back at it later and value what I have just that little bit more because fuck it, I have *earned* this.

Oh but I hate it though. I hate the feeling of not being in control of myself. I hate the feeling of suddenly not having enough time when the wait had dragged on forever. I hate not having the personal resources to simply harden the fuck up and simply DO what would at any other time be a fairly straightforward thing. I hate feeling like some kind of fraud because on some level I'm not registering that this is real stress and it feels like some weird scam I've concocted. I hate the way in which I'm kind of bewildered at my lack of ability to just get on with it.

Can I just be finished please? I really really want this to be finished.
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An odd day today. I went to a couple of gatherings, both of which involved nice socialisation. The weather was cold and wet which both literally and figuratively dampened the mood somewhat. There was odd emotional discomfort which is really nobody's problem but my own so I'm not sure exactly how to address that. It also seems I'm still having odd ambivalent feelings about being attracted to people.

Yay for Kerry Greenwood booklaunches, even if today didn't bring the wonderful sunnyt weather which usually accompanies such things. There was singing which was always good. I had a minor twitchy moment and moved on to the next gathering I was due to go to, and in truth only got there about half an hour early. There's a Melbourne genderqueer group which has some lovely people there. I feel like something of an old fart there but not too badly. Thence to Hares and Hyenas to grab a copy of this. I was amused by the fact that the central character is a transgendered cyclist called Salisbury Forth who lives in Melbourne. A solid array of coincidences that and the book itself looks fun.

Food is in the oven. I chopped onions and let them fry in the bottom of my lovely cast iron pot with garlic and turmeric and pepper and cumin and fresh coriander before dumping a tin of diced tomatoes, two tins of chickpeas, a goodly amount of chopped sweet potato, flaked almonds and caroway seeds which I'd just toasted, a little chilli oil, tarragon and a box of frozen spinach on top of it and transferring the lot to the oven where it makes nice smells and is stirred occasionally.

I have a small amount of a Pratchett novel to consume and then I think it'll be straight on to my latest acquisition. I'm not really sure how I feel at this point. Not bad, not good but a poorly stirred mix of the two.
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Well that's two nights in a row when I slept so little that by the time my alarm went off I'd had less than two hours sleep in total. Given how wide ranging my shouting mind is over those hours, I think I'm going to sit down today and actually draw a diagram that shows the inter-relations between all of this crap. If nothing else, it might pin down what I'm most twitchy about and maybe externalise things a bit. I might also head up to the chemist and see if they have anything over the counter which will help me sleep...I have to pick up my sleep debt tonight.

The anxiety at the moment is affecting me enough that I have a constant low level actual physical reaction to it; I have that adrenal, heart-in-my-throat feeling with light nausea and acing muscles. I thought it was a virus of some kind but now I don't think it is. Why did my therapist's appendix choose now to explode?
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An odd few days and I think I'm trying to resolve far too many things at once. An otherwise lovely day at the Krae Glas invest was marred by multiple triggers turning me into a wibbling mess who had to go off and hide in the corner several times, not always successfully. Many thanks to those who found me and made the right noises and most particularly walked me in circles until I settled. That aside, it was fantastic to be at an SCA event again and not only to catch up with people who haven't seen me for some time but to be received so warmly. It was also fantastic to sing again even if it did feel peculiar every now and then to be singing the bottom line of the score. Given that I'll never be an alto, it's either rumble out the counter-contralto part or not sing. I am so not not NOT giving up singing!

I didn't get the expected therapy session on Saturday morning. Apparently my therapist had a sudden onset of something bad with his appendix which was severe enough to warrant emergency surgery. Given that, I really don't feel like I got the worse end of the exercise in this but it's a little ironic that the one time I actually really wanted to vent at him, it all fell through.

Sunday, I had plans for the afternoon but in the end I slept in (after not sleeping much at all during the night) and pottered. Laundry was done and experimental stuff comprising shallots, bacon, Swiss mushrooms, fennel, butternut pumpkin and blue cheese was baked and pureed into a ridiculously rich mess and spooned over gnocchi. I'm working my way through a fairly generous serve for dinner as I type this and I do rather like it.

So I shall progress gently for a bit. I have social engagements which will prod me here and there but which will also make me happy in some important ways. The tricky part with dealing with everything at the moment is that I can't compartmentalise things, they're all far too incestuously interwoven. So I can only tease out knots here and there until things start to look coherent again. Well at least I can't complain about being bored. It might be a bit fraught sometimes but if nothing else, it's awfully interesting.

Right, bed and a book. Incidentally, Judith Butler writes awfully densely, even for someone producing an academic rather than popular work. Worth persisting with though methinks, even though I'm already piling up quite a assumptions in the text that I'm waiting for her to resolve.
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Spent the day thinking and thinking and thinking until I was nauseous and confused and about to shout at the next prat on the phone. I gave up and left work about two hours early, went to a friend's place and had a not entirely explainable uncontrolled crying fit. I strongly suspect that there are multiple factors in this and that because they all interrelate and influence each other there's a big ugly snarled ball of fear and jealousy and confusion and grief and a heavy seasoning of self-doubt and just not being satisfied with myself. Regardless of why it happened it was exhausting. I'm going to try hard to go to work tomorrow regardless. I realise that this isn't necessarily the best response to an emotional crash but I'm getting utterly fed up with the things after close to a year of them. I want my headspace back. I want some sort of say in who and what I am rather than letting my subconscious mind knee me in my emotional solar-plexus and lead me about by one ear as it's been doing. Over. It.

I have supportive friends. I have places to go where I can talk to people. I have a therapist session booked on Saturday morning (and won't the account of the past six weeks be entertaining for him?) I can and will and must sort my own understanding of myself out or this is going to proceed messily and nobody wants that, least of all me. Going to go to bed now. I hope to sleep but I'm not making promises.

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