Weird how a day can be so positive in terms of what’s been accomplished and because of hormones and other body stuff, it can also feel so negative and bleck and gross and stop.
Less than good things:
Feeling panicky in the car – mostly from not eating at it being 1:30p.m., but it got a bit further out of whack than it needed to. As a passenger, too.
Feeling anxious about everything. Inane stuff that I’m not going to do the honor of going into here, just suffice it to say I can’t live my life worrying if I’ve suddenly stopped being able to swallow liquids. I haven’t. I’m fine, I am just tormenting myself because things are okay and this little sore throat/odd taste in my mouth is not apocalypse now.
Still not knowing what the heck to do about work.
Realizing I have yet again double-booked myself.
Losing a package of ham somewhere that I bought two days ago.
Feeling shifty and angsty about having to drive to writers group after being so panicky in the car earlier, and somehow figuring out some combination of self-consolation and bravery and intrinsic motivation and music and daylight and distraction that made it possible to spend the 25 minutes it takes to get to group.
I actually enjoyed group – both from the kind comments I received on the crappy little skintag of a story I submitted and because the people are likeable and care about what I’m going through in life.
Making myself put on makeup before the group and having that brief, subtle moment in the mirror, of, oh, hey, you, girl whose face I like.
Thinking maybe I can keep going and see this story through to the end.
Checking in with my mentor who I’ll see in person this weekend
Getting invited to a party with the ol’ market pals even if it’s a goodbye party.
Despite feeling hormonal and wanky and really self-pitying, I spent a half an hour on the stationary bike and was none of the aforementioned things about it.
I made polenta cakes and had tomato sauce and spicy sausage and more of that cucumber apple salad for lunch.
Food is getting tracked.
There is more good than ill. It’s just the brain getting caught up in this very specific dance that dizzies me, and it’s the dizziness of trying to right myself that freaks me out. It’s hormones, it’s that time, it’s that place, it’s just…it was pretty intense today. But even so, we lived. I said, it can be miserable and hard and you can have freak-out upon freak-out, but you’re going to get there safely. And that was true. That was a promise I kept.
So. Yeah. Now, a bath and some sleepytime tea. I need to get out of my own way and start thinking ahead about positive things – Seattle, pink hair, back on an even keel, getting this story published (hah), some handsome lad who can spell and use commonsense grammar and syntax, falling asleep drunk and full of chocolate.