my anxiety is real, holy shit
I feel like life is kind of speeding past us all and we are sometimes cognizant of the time and other times it’s like holy shit have I been having the same day for weeks, and the thing that seems to differentiate the timeline is the food I make. It’s one of the only things I do make myself do, cook, though I don’t think I always eat the right amount of food because I forget, and being hungry is something that even goes back to the time I was on Depakote, and decided that wanting to eat the house every time I breathed wasn’t a great plan. You do want to eat everything and that’s not why I cook, because I have some pretty healthy ways about me.
I eat a handful or two of walnuts every day. I am also trying to eat a cup of broccoli to keep my coumadin in check, I drink a lot of water. I will eat an apple with peanut butter and some dried cherries thrown in covered in sunflower seeds, a few hard boiled eggs. I rarely, so very rarely have more sugar than is in my morning coffee which is no small amount as I still love Dunkin Donuts iced coffee with cream and sugar because I am not entirely fond of hot coffee because it does go room temp unless I hoover it in, but it’s like $2 a day which is nothing compared to most people’s Starfucker’s habits. So I have been doing that. I bought chocolates the other day but I do try and make all the sweets we consume here.
My lunch hour is fairly boring–I go to the grocery store more than I should (every day almost)–I treat this place like it is the easy access neighborhood you walk to the store when you need your one-off item. I have a lot of one-off items because I am always trying to pay attention to my whims which change enough. I bought a napa cabbage the other day for this asian chicken salad which I will have to follow up with some other slaws or eastern-inspired stuff because it is napa cabbage. That was a weird one off I have those super ziplock containers that keeps stuff longer than most.
Tonight was a taco-seasoned spaghetti squash covered in turkey with tomatoes and onions, bell pepper and some spices and broiled cheese on top. Two of those servings went into the freezer.
I have been distracting myself with these food plans because it is the thing that changes in my world the most–food. Everything else is pretty routine and aside from my new freakouts about WTF I am going to do with work, because the truth is, they are cheapening up and finding easy ways to fire people. I am pretty sure my coming in is non-negotiable, so I am spending a lot of my free time trying to do these seminars I have registered for and making shit happen. I spent some time today going through job listings, and the only things that seem to inspire me aside from a few travel agent ones I found—bartending and waitressing which we all know I cannot do. I don’t want to reinvest myself oh my god. I don’t think I ever mentioned this before but a friend of mine once had a pretty serious disability which caused her to not be able to move as fast or get stuff done quickly–but she was so smart. I studied for and took a Medicare expert training and passed for her so she could sell it. I would never say and you would never figure it out, so there’s no point in asking. But I did live here when it happened so my brain wasn’t the fresh young thing it was in New York. So though trying to relearn a whole new industry seems like a terrible idea–I clearly still have some skills left to learn what I need to learn to earn what I need to stop feeling so fucked all of the time.
Yeah, these seminars better go somewhere or I have no idea what I can do. I am not going to be an asshole and GoFund myself because I still have a complete brain for now–that is something that is a sneaky demon waiting to get me. But since I haven’t stroked out–I have a pretty okay brain to make shit happen and a billion ideas. Granted I need a little help or luck to make a few of them happen, but can I just tell you I see how people are bullied who are far more perfect than me–shit I am like a 15 year old with zits and a bad perm–but this time covered in scars with no boobs to speak of, really.
So I am praying and fucking hoping and trying to figure this out because things are all timed, it appears, to work out in certain ways perhaps. I will go to sleep tonight with one of the seminars running audibly before I pass out, which is really mostly early, I guess because I am a sick person and all. Today’s step counter so far has 12, 656 steps registered. I do them in short spurts because there is a chair every 50 feet where I live. But I did walk the dog around a mini courtyard here twice today. My main goal with me is to do shit that will make sense ultimately–eat the right stuff, eliminate my worst habits, spliffs still being one, though I have cut down considerably. I tried to find pomegranate juice, great for keeping the artery walls happy, but failed. Yes, higher in Vitamin K but again, consistency. Keeping my legs below my heart. Moving them in spastic moments to ensure it won’t die of no effort of mine to keep the blood going. Wondering if the altitude up here is better or worse.
So. Hear me out, Universe. Help a girl out. jesus christ I did not even have a wedding, nor do I demand shit, really. But help me make this turn into something worth it, because I need that kind of something good to hang onto right now. I am no writer, but maybe I am. I jumped off Facebook but my comments and perspective ALWAYS always captured something most people missed. But I have nowhere to share them right now but own a few websites that clearly need a bit of it. After the writing stuff is done, then comes the WordPress youtube university I clearly need–there is also a WP event in town in the next few weeks that seems like an idea, but UGH. I need to take the time to do the initial research but then there is the should I pay $399 for a Sabre course right now to make sure I am at least VERY apt to be hired for travel, which is a little more fun than most things. Remember the major job I had before this I spent years at was taking old ladies’ social security cash for beauty creams, though I certainly understand the inclination absolutely.
I don’t want to say this, it fucking sucks to imagine doing–diving into the nothing with barely any plan. And if you are offended by that, I am so sorry but always being on the verge of some major health disaster while not being independently wealthy is somewhat problematic, hate to tell you all. I can try to walk the distances I will have to, I can put the effort in. It would be an ultimate test of what I can fucking take, I guess. I can also rush my second life, the one where I am doing what I want, keeping whatever hours I need to in order to feel like I am married and enjoying my last years with some joy and expectation of something so much better than I have right now. I have a few things on the list, one of which is an art show, so I have some time but probably needed to get off the second version of the 20 year plan I was on. I might be on the 7-10 year plan, hope it’s not 7-10 months, but years–I will still be cute and probably will have even less of my fucking brain than I do right now so that will probably make me doubly annoying. After you have lost part of your brain to stroke(s) and pieces of your memory along with it–you want, you need to be as whole as possible because anything else is just a hole of who you once were.
Throw me into a volcano and give that speech on what an astrophysicist should say at your funeral because God was no friend of mine. Keep me out of the church, gross, unless it is a church in the Netherlands because lots of them are secular now. But the astrophysicist speech is better than most funerals where a bunch of people who don’t really know you show up because some are connected with grief, and some are really just that much better than me a lot of the time. But someone droning on about god and bullshit I did not support or believe in, is a really GREAT way to get haunted, as I have mentioned.
It’s 9:34 and I will probably go lay down right now and wake up at 5. Don will come in and touch me when he gets in to make sure I am still alive. Oh my god someone help him if he comes in and I am dead and stiff like a hardened giant rabbit foot, the first real piece of something dead I ever touched. That would be fucking awful for him, and I almost hope it is something more mundane. I don’t even want to imagine something for myself that is something crazy just for that whole manifesting your own destiny idea. Yikes, as my imagination is sometimes incredibly terrible. But it definitely can imagine a better happier and more beautiful life–I just hope it’s something I get to experience as well.
