A Lucid Moment

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.

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.