I must admit that things are pretty crappy right now. I can count my current woes on my fingers but I still feel some secret hope that I can’t quite identify. Perhaps it is spring. Today we’re back into daylight savings time, thank God. That is a sure sign of spring, isn’t it? It’s something we can trust.
I keep waiting to feel stronger before posting here so that I can bring more good to the world and feel sure of it. Deep down, however, I know that writing itself helps me feel stronger. So here I am, writing.
My psychiatrist keeps asking me about my plans for the future and I feel like yelling at him. I feel like he should know me better than to ask me that. I feel like my life is one big ball of unpredictability, and planning for the future is like planning to win the lottery.
One of my family’s cats died a week ago yesterday. He was fourteen and had a good life but his death caught my family by surprise. Oliver was such happy and healthy kitty that we expected to have for a few more years at least. It prompted the unofficial silence on my blog. Death humbles us all, makes us feel powerless.
Two nights ago I crashed into my dresser in my sleep. Yes, I was sleep walking, something I thought I’d stopped doing since being put on sleep medication years ago. I know I was sleep walking because I didn’t have a clue that I was even out of bed until I was on the floor, my kneecaps and my forehead throbbing with pain, blood gushing from my forehead. I stumbled around in the dark, all over the apartment, until finally grabbing a rag and making my way into the bathroom to see the damage done. I kind of screamed when I saw what I did to my head and then shortly after I started laughing.
The next morning I was pissed because I needed to get stitches instead of heading right to the Indie Media Fair as planned, to sell my buttons and zines. I didn’t have to wait long at the hospital, however, and so I did end up making it to the craft sale after I put stickers of a pug, scissors, and a cat on my forehead bandage.
I haven’t been to the hospital for something non-mental health related since I was five years old and sprained my arm. It’s a relief to be shame free when I talk about getting stitches. Imagine that! Well, I am a little ashamed because it was a really stupid accident but my ego isn’t too damaged. That said, I can’t help but feel like my sleep walking was somewhat related to my mental health and stress levels. Friday was a stressful day with therapy and last-minute craft show preparation. I am thankful, however, that I didn’t hurt myself any worse. A few inches lower and I could have lost my eye. I’m going to have an ugly scar but I can handle looking a little tougher.
I have a lot more to tell you about. Hopefully this post will break my silence and get my words flowing again. I miss you a lot.
