Oh right

Things have been moving along at a steady chug for a few weeks... I'm working and adjusting to the work schedule, taking care of business with the Teen and some of her teachers, hanging out with the Princess and the cat, playing a lot of Super Mario Bros.  I felt like I'd reached some kind of balance, and felt, for the first time in a long while.... content?  sort of happy?

But then, for the past few nights, I haven't been sleeping well, and have been running around the house baking and cooking and cleaning as though I'm preparing for something. This morning it clicked for me--this is my aunt's birthday... the one who passed away in June.  Of course, I knew it was her birthday; my extended family is planning to get together later today specifically because of the date.  I baked things to take to the potluck.  For some reason, though, it didn't really click.

In fact, I had been observing my response to this sort of milestone with detached approval--look at how well I'm handling all this!  I can calmly organize a family gathering and clean my house and cook brownies and lemon bars and cleanthehouseandcookdinneranddoallthedishes...  Right.  Ok.  I need to stop for a minute and stop observing and detaching, and just follow this day where it leads.

I do have a treat set up for myself later--a friend with an infant is coming to town, and she's a great listener, and holding babies is a cure for just about any psychological ailment I can think of.  And I have knitted presents for this baby.

Also, relatedly, I've been thinking about some new ink to help me remember not to do this shit to myself.  Something like this:

via*

except definitely not on my chest and without the birds.  Maybe across my shoulderblades, since that's where I carry the weight of the bastardes (including myself: I can be the worst bastarde of them all when it comes to grinding myself down).



*It reads "Nolite Te Carbarundrume Bastardes," which yes, I know isn't real Latin, but is significant to me because of its literary and feminist connotations.

Body

I've been having some health problems.  In deference to those who get squicked out by medical things--and because the problems have to do with my lady parts, which some might not be inclined to learn about--I will be vague, but I'm happy to provide more details if you contact me directly.

One of the worst things about having trouble with the lady parts is that it's hard to talk about.  I will sometimes mention to an acquaintance (to one of the teen's friend's parents, for example, to explain why I can't come pick her up) that I had surgery, and they will inevitably ask what kind.  And I have to hesitate, especially if it's a man.  I don't think they really want to know.  But then again, they asked...  I generally defer, as I will below, to a vague description and squirming discomfort.

Let's just say that it was fairly major surgery, and that I should not be having any more of the trouble that I've been having for the past four years.  I finally found a doctor that I like, and he was able to perform the surgery in the least invasive way possible--for which I am extremely grateful.  I hope I'm on the last pages of that particular story.

It's been 11 days since my surgery, and while I am making definite progress, I'm not as recovered as I would like. When the cat showed up the other day with a nasty abcess on her back I was able to bring her to the vet; going across town felt like an adventure into deep space.  I still have pain when I'm moving around, but sitting is OK.  I've been reading a lot (although not consistently updating my Twitter book list, sorry), bingeing on TV shows, knitting, and doing crossword puzzles.  I get tired very easily and I can't walk far without the help of painkillers.  It's hard to remember what normal life and wellness are like, though I know I've passed the lowest part of this and am on the upswing.

Whew

Well, *that* happened.  Now that summer's over I can take a look back at it and think, "holy shit, I hope that never ever happens again."

In one way it was good: I have always associated fall as the season of death and loss, and this year has proven to me that summer can be just as horrific.  I'm going to take winter and spring and hide them in a sad-proof safe, so that I have something to look forward to.

I've also been taking steps to care for myself during this time: I went back on antidepressants for the time being, I got a lovely new tattoo, and I've been consciously trying to spend time every day doing at least one thing that I like (usually it's reading, but sometimes cooking, watching movies, walking, going out to eat, listening to podcasts).  Now that it's getting cooler, I'll probably add yarncraft to that list as well.

I also submitted a poem to a magazine--the first thing I've sent out in more than a year--and it was accepted, which was a wonderful confidence boost.  You can look for my poem in the inaugural issue of Salacious magazine in January.

While I wait for all of this to take effect, I'm just pushing along.  What else do you do?

EDIT: Updated to include the link to Salacious.  SALACIOUS!

I Know What You're Getting...

I just found this kickass pattern for a grocery bag crocheted out of recycled, um, grocery bags. So I finally know what I'm giving everyone for holiday gifts! Well, if I can get my lazy ass up, collect some grocery bags, and make some plarn...

(thx for the heads-up, Kory!)