I yawn and stretch, having hit repeat on Erasure’s ‘Stop‘, trying to fight the dizzying fog at the corners of my mind, which threatens to roll in and swamp it again. My un-drunk cup of rooibos sits almost-cool, and with the teabag still in, it’s sweet and heavily scented when I take a sip, swirling its aroma through the gauze-tangled corridors of my mind, momentarily refreshing them.
1am, and I still have this to write, because even though I’m sick of myself for not making it around the hop the last couple of weeks, and for still not organising the new banner yet (because I suck), I still need this hop so, so much, and can’t bear not joining in more than I hate my selfishness, laziness and lack of connectedness.
I do still need this, but I’m too tired for ‘ado’, and haven’t got the *twinklysparkly* to bring you anything more than what feels like thankfuls dipped in the sludge of withdrawal; still glistening with the unwelcome residue of a week which has been filled with a greater number of ups and downs than a drunk trying to make it home in one piece (I should know – I was trying to help her!).
Saturday – I sent off icky divorce forms, and un-jointed our bank account, and had a few attacks of The Feels, but fortunately the evening held the Princess party…wow! Suffice it to say, my friend’s daughter looked beautiful, and a huge effort had been made to create the perfect atmosphere, but there were woefully few princesses, and I was one of maybe a handful who really all-out tried (including a very very cute little girl in a big pink frock). But it was okay, because in the end, as the evening wore on and the drinks wore in, I discovered that being a princess was mostly rather fun. The party suited my little extrovert nature down to a T, and I’m pretty sure that by home-time I could have had my pick of three cute barmen, two very cheeky old men, and one gorgeous older woman (she was the one I walked home, and we laughed the entire way).
Sunday – the cutest of the cute barmen tracked me down on Facebook and began showering me with compliments. I was astonished and my fragile ego was rather beautifully boosted, cos aside from anything else, he was 22 (!!!) but alas, he operated in a manner which is (allegedly) rather au fait with youngsters these days (or certain types of youngsters these days) and by the time (a couple of days later) he’d asked me out, cancelled because he ‘couldn’t trust himself around me’, then sent me a rather explicit video of himself in the shower and asked for reciprocals, I was running for the hills from what I’m pretty sure might be a product of overly self-assured youth, mixed in with a little bit of rape-culture, and just NO! With a side-order of NOPE!
Monday – I was useful in spite of brain-zaps as bad as all get out (having decided that a three-day weekend was as good a time as any to come off meds I don’t think I need any more (no more panic attacks, no more impending doom, and on the whole, no more eating disorderly behaviour, which is a relief (doubled, as I was able to fit into clothes from last summer, which I had exceeded, and which I’ve gotten back into in a healthy (i.e. eating properly and exercising sensibly) manner))). I helped my Sis move house to a flat on the next floor up in her block, and spent the day bruising myself to pieces carrying heavy things. My role as ‘helpful muscle’ was very much appreciated until the end of the day when we all lost our rags with exhaustion and had a massive fall out. Soulie came and helped too, so I got to spend the day with him and Sis, having (mostly) a laugh.
Tuesday – is lost in a fog of tiredness, but I know there was boxing at the end of it, and that was good.
Wednesday – was the day when my work life ganged up on me with death by a thousand tiny things, and I ended up in tears of frustration and upset more than once. It sucked. But I’m sure it was the weather, because my colleagues seemed to have tough days too, and it just wasn’t funny. I think the tears were probably better out than in, though, and I’m sure that it’s only a good thing if I learn to show emotion a bit more. I was lucky to have Vince to look after me in the evening, because although I barely remember it, I’m pretty sure I arrived home brain-zappy and broken, and he helped to fix it.
Thursday had a late start and a sudden drop into amazingness at Sisterwives, with the write-up of Hasty’s beautiful manifesto that we should all try to #BeReal, and the incredible privilege of being able to support her campaign as person after person after person hooked into what a damn good idea it is, and took part. Quite honestly one of the most wonderful things I think I’ve written in terms of its impact on people, and all down to her inspiration and how much of a giant heart she has for others – go check out her post on the issue.
Work went well, too, and in the evening, there was a picnic tea at the beach with Vince (in real) and Beth (on my phone), and it was perfect. Until I got cold (I’m secretly a reptile and as the sun went in, and the sky faded from blue to lilac to bruise-purple, my fingernails followed suit, and the shivers set in. Much as I would have loved to have stayed to watch the stars come out, I needed to go home and have a hot, hot shower. Guess I’m thankful for that, too.
Friday – apart from having to spend the day in a room which seems to be the dumping-ground for someone else’s air conditioning excess, which renders it positively antarctic in temperature, it was a GREAT day at work, with fantastically positive meetings with my supervisor and my boss, who both like what I’m doing to contribute to the team, and who like me, too. I also helped to secure a chunk of funding for our department, so I felt pretty good about that, too.
Wended throughout the week were my morning visits to Jenny and Gabriel, and my evening ones to pick up the thermos. They’ve had harrassment from the police, which sucks, but according to the rules, I can’t raise a complaint about because I didn’t see, and there have been threats made about their shop doorway being boarded up, meaning they would have to move on. But at the same time, I was able to source some helpful painkillers for Gabriel, and Jenny used awesome words like “banjaxed”, and I learned that she’s a writer, too. I’ve learned so, so much in the last fortnight (two weeks – it’s English) from these two, and they’re in my heart now, and part of my Village. I’m very thankful for them both and the chance they give me to shift from my egocentric perspective, by welcoming me so willingly into their world. Next week we’re planning a picnic in the park, which I’m very excited about.
Saturday – HAIRCUT DAY, and ohmigosh I cannot WAIT! The pink is going to be re-pinked, and the shaved WILL BE RE-SHAVED OR I WILL HAVE WORDS, and I’m just dying to have it nice again, rather than floofy and a bit too overgrown for its own good. Then I’m being taken underwear shopping, because having had a person who cares that I should look good, if only for myself, doing my laundry, I have been informed that my current selection of faded, elastic-stretched cottons are seriously below par and not acceptable by any stretch. And without any impropriety or besmirching of Soulie’s character (it doesn’t need it – he can besmirch it without my help!), it’s actually rather nice to have a chap around who gives two hoots about the state of my unmentionables, even if it’s completely platonic.
Sunday – I’ve got a blank space, baby, and I’ll write your name (if I’m awake to do so).
No counting. And don’t count on me at the moment, for anything. Sorry.
OH, but I did update my ‘About‘ page. It sorely needed it, and though it was awful to go back through and erase so many of the hopes-turned-nightmares, it WAS good to add in some friends, a lot of proper love, and some maybe future to it. I hope it hasn’t lost any of the original, storytelling flavour it had before.
Get going. Get living. And #BeReal.