Iunno, man, maybe like six chickens worth?

I just replied to @jacktrash’s tumblr conversation with random2908 and feel like I’m about to pass out about it.

 

Question: is it betterworse if someone reads what I said and says something back, or if no one even notices?

Anxiety-brain says worst case scenario is someone Replies Disapprovingly. That’s world-ending, right there.

… or rather, not world-ending, just adding one more drop in the pool of Memories that Make Me Cringe.

In other news, the other day my sister (the one with the psych training) volunteered without prompting* that I have Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. (Which I have suspected of myself, but have never directly brought up with anyone, particularly offline.)

*other than the fact that I was crying b/c she and my other sister expressed mild disapproval in my general direction

 

What a breath of fresh air that entire thing was to read. Not the atrocities of course, but just the way the conversation went, the willingness to share and listen. It's shameful that Christians drove you away from Christianity, and I'm so sorry that happened. It sucks so damn much that you're getting a replay of the bullshit. I can't imagine how bad that must feel.

I certainly hope no one is unkind to you for the eternally prescient and well worded reminder that people aren't less worthwhile if you can't convert them.

 

@Verily - I know it’s been nearly a month, but just to let you know, I really appreciate your reply here. Thank you for collapsing this anxiety waveform in a positive way. It was very helpful! :)

 

We just had to put Miekka to sleep. She was very old, had cancer. She was my sister’s dog, much more than mine. My dog Frankie was her sister. She died around 2011. I don’t know if it’s selfish of me to be upset that I’m losing not just Miekka but my last link to Frankie.

Mandi is devastated.

I can’t sleep.

 

I’m taking another ceramics class- this one is a low-fire class at a community center rather than at Northern Clay Center. Costs less, less impersonal.

Here are the first results:





New glaze options, and low-fire can more easily do bright colors.

I’m working on a planter shaped like a dragon, with various metalic glazes and bright underglazes. Will see how that comes out.

 

Having a lot of trouble getting words out lately. More in writing than in talking, it seems, though it might just feel that way because I don’t have much use for out-loud words in my day-to-day, so it’s OK to just say nothing, whereas in writing, I actually occasionally want to put something out/reply to a conversation somewhere, but then there’s this wave of exhaustion/what’s-the-point, sometimes accompanied with a feeling of “Why do you think you have anything interesting or worthwhile to say? You’ve done nothing with your life. You lack the relevant experience to comment on basically anything.”

Urgh. Anyways, I feel kinda shitty.

In completely unrelated news, I’m having trouble getting the pharmacy to refill my meds.

 

Cannae sleep. Brain is anxious soup. Turned 40 last Friday. Got in a spat with my mom on my birthday, she said something mean and now she feels bad so she’s hoovering to try and make up for it. She does the energy vampire thing extra hard when she knows she screwed up. Oh, I hurt you? Come pay attention to me and reassure me and make me feel better for hurting you!

She doesn’t do it on purpose. It’s just very loud, being her.

 

Multiple thing pileup!

Thing the first: My debit card expired, and the bank didn’t send me a new one as they were supposed to. So, while I have money in theory, I cannot use it except where things accept paypal, which is linked directly to my bank account. Called to get a replacement card last week; replacement card was meant to arrive a week after I called; it is now a week later and still no card.

Thing the second-through-the-however-manyth: Everything that costs money and does not already accept paypal.

Thing the however-manyth plus one: Bupropion prescription did not renew for some reason; am in withdrawal and this makes everything harder; also, various other prescriptions are running out just about now and to refill those, I need 1) money, non-paypal related, and 2) phonecalls, which are hard to begin with and even harder when in withdrawal not only from Bupropion but now a few other things too.

Thing the next: An appointment with a specialist dentist required me to get my teeth cleaned with a general dentist; I got this scheduled, but it turned out that the specialist dentist appointment was BEFORE the teeth cleaning appointment, which I failed to catch because I put it into the calendar wrong;

And finally: I couldn’t get my teeth cleamed anyway, because for some reason (possibly the meds I’m on, possibly withdrawal from the meds I’m supposed to be on) my blood pressure is super high and they don’t want to do a teeth cleaning for someone with high blood pressure because apparently it might kill me. So now I need to schedule an appointment with a GP to talk about blood pressure so I can make the rescheduled appointment to get my teeth cleaned so I can make the rescheduled appointment to get a sleep apnea mouthpiece fitted so I can maybe make a schedule to get another sleep study when the mouthpiece does jack fuck to keep me awake during the day so I can GET BACK ON THE FUCKING MEDS THAT FUCKING WORK THAT INSURANCE WON’T PAY FOR BECAUSE PEOPLE WHO HAVE APNEA DON’T HAVE NARCOLEPSY OBVIOUSLY.

(Ofc that probably won’t work either; I’m already noncompliant with the cpap because it was a huge hassle and it kept me awake but frankly I’m not goddamn convinced I even have sleep apnea in the first place, and it’s already been made quite clear though that my opinion on this doesn’t goddamn matter.)

Oh and one of the meds I’ve now run out of was the stuff I take to sleep. So I can’t sleep either.

Anyway. Tomorrow is for calling places about appointments and getting meds refilled and also maybe asking my sister for some cash which I can pay back immediately because, fortunately, my sister accepts paypal.

 

And lo, Some of the Things got done.

Mowed lawn, babysat Sylvie, got some paper money, and picked up 1 out of 3 prescriptions, with two more on their way to getting filled. So there’s that. :)

 

Just realized today that the fact that I still have no desk space (therefore nowhere to Art or Computer) is actually a thing that I can, like, actively work towards fixing, and doing so would probably have measurable positive effects on my ability to actually Do Things. Which I guess had recognized before in a way that was sort of tangential to me thinking things like, “Gee, I sure wish I had a desk to do stuff on,” but for some reason it didn’t really register the same until I was in the process of buying a new sketchbook this afternoon.

BTW I practiced drawing a bunch of sketchy week-old wobble kittens from image-search references, look:



Not that great, but it’s a thing I got done, which isn’t nothing.

 

Auighh, it has been too long since I last drew regularly and my muscle memory has reset to Blaaaauhrr. I shall now rail at my floppy hands for being what they are and then get back to training.

Feels good to be making something again, though.

 

I was so satisfied that I remembered to make it in to vote today and didn’t have any more urgent tasks to complete that I forgot until like an hour ago that there is a national election going on right now and I can’t do anything more to affect the outcome.

Urrgh. Switch back off, stupid brain. Let the fail-universe be its own asshole self. Can’t do shit about it now.

 

AAAUGH I’M SO UPSET

OK first of all, my dog is fine.

Freya is the English setter puppy we got last year. She very much wants to run all the time, but we live in a city, so she can’t.

She jumped out of the fence multiple times yesterday, as the snow had piled up and made it easy.

The last time, I only let her out loose because it was night and cold and I thought she’d come back, because she’s better about coming back in when outside isn’t fun, but she didn’t, she jumped out.

So my sister and I chased her all over the neighborhood, until she ran out into 42nd street, which is busy. And she ran back and forth a few times and then a car hit her.

And I remember screaming, and I thought, that’s the end of her, no more Freya, and then I screamed some more.

And then she got up and ran off like nothing had happened.

I think she only came back to us because we were crying.

The girl whose car hit her got out, and she was upset too, and I wanted to show her Freya and let her know she looked OK, but the road was still busy and my sister had already packed her into the car. We exchanged I’m-sorries and thanked her for stopping, and I flailed around uselessly for a bit and repeated what had already been said, then got back in my sister’s car and we headed home and cried and cuddled Freya.

We’ve been watching for delayed signs of injury, and so far haven’t found so much as a bruise. She’s been acting a little subdued, but that’s it.

I’ve still got the memory flasbulbing in my head. I keep checking her over and over again. But she’s OK.

 

I’m so fucking tired.

Got my concerta refilled today, though, so hopefully that changes some when I get back on it.

 

Alas, I have Failed a Social Interaction on the Tungls. I upset OP, entangled myself in a conflict that was none of my business, and, since OP is a moderately popular blogger, have been Publicly Shamed for it.

I apologized, and then ended up unfollowing the OP, because while I liked them and their stuff, they are also emotionally volatile and kind of fighty, and I had been feeling iffy about following them for a while.

Now I’m just trying to turn off the flinch. Think I’m gonna take a bit of a break from Tumblr until my brain stops being raw.

 

So yeah, apparently I guess I’m just like catnip to maybe-drunk probably-homeless guys. This is maybe the second, third guy who’s hit on me after I offered, like, what I’d considered pretty basic assistance? First one who’s got handsy about it though.

I’m sorry, sir, I only see you as the confused old man I met in the sandwich shop and tried to offer map directions to. This is not generally an interaction that I would consider a lead-up to holy matrimony.

Next time anyone asks, I am not single. I am very not single. In fact I have 4 boyfriends and they are all 7 feet tall. Wait, actually more like 3 boyfriends and a boyfriend in law. Also 2 girlfriends in law except one’s maybe a little less legal that the other.

I will then continue to expound upon my imaginary polycule until I’m out of arm’s length and back locked in my car. Alone. And drive away.

 

I can’t fucking do this again.

I just don’t have the spite in me for it.

I can’t “Don’t just vote! Organize!” I hate being around other people, and I’m always, always tired. I can barely perform basic functions necessary to live as an unemployed wastrel in someone else’s spare room.

I’m not even allowed to die because it would upset my sisters.