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Posts Tagged ‘Shopping’

It’s verge collection time.

When everyone throws out their unwanted junk, old furniture, fridges, boxy tvs.

This house is full of old junk, my grandfather is a hoarder. It’s an illness, they say. I wish I could open all the windows, crank some Pearl Jam, and ditch things over the balcony. Start again with white cane and furniture made of driftwood.

It’s more about me than the house, wanting things fresh and new, of course. My messenger bleeps and I see it’s my tenant from up the hill, asking what type of garden edging I’d like.

Whatever, I text. Whatever you’d like, what you think is best.

She thinks I’m the best landlady ever.

My friend, who I’ve let ride my good horse this year, calls for a chat, asking me about moving agistment centres, if he might need the chiro, she went out on Saturday and a bit of fencing was down and I just want to scream.

‘Why won’t you people leave me alone and here’s my credit card number and it’s not that I don’t care it’s because I just can’t and if I could I would have stayed at home!’

Fuck. And the thing is, I could be feeling fine tomorrow. I’m deliberately not making any big decisions, not doing anything I can’t undo because I’m not to be trusted at the moment.

It’s the only damage control I can exercise when my brain and body are on the edge of a freak-out. I throw $30 of steak to the dogs because I think it ‘smells funny’, vomit in the sink cooking eggs, notice my hands are shaking and my mouth tastes like metal. So I know not to trust myself, this isn’t real, this is just an imbalance and you’re doing everything you can to sort it out, I tell myself.

I’m so lucky. So lucky I have the luxury of being able to give myself some time. The relief floods me sometimes, the feeling of not having to make hard decisions, which horse goes first, do we sell our house now or later or subdivide the land or stick it out or or or. I’m blessed and I know that but my thankfulness doesn’t change the anxiety I feel when people bring up stuff I’d rather not think about, when my beautiful old horse has his first paddock injury in the 8 years I’ve had him, and I have to find the energy reserve I don’t have to deal with things that would have been minor once.

So my best best friend comes and takes Bailey for an icecream, and I sit here and write all this shit out, and work on my novel, and I don’t know what I’d do without my friends. I call my other riding instructor come friend, who I could barely talk to about my own horse and ask if she’d help me run Drum to the vets because I just don’t want to do it by myself, and the answer is of course. I’ll always help where I can. And it took me two whole days of feeling sick over something so minor for it to even occur to me that I could ask for help.

For an apparently smart person, I can be so incredibly slow.

And this morning I woke up to this 🙂

IMG_1991

IMG_1989

Life is good, really everything is fine, I just need my mind and body to catch up 🙂

x

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…today.

And that worries me.  Did someone finally get sick of my perpetual emo state and slip an upper into my coffee?  Does it mean that I have finally mastered denial?  Have I totally lost my shit?

Was feeling ok enough to clean up my hovel house today, and I feel better for doing it.  It’s nice to be able to walk around barefoot without being scared.  I also brushed my hair.  Fuck, I’m good.

Craig is coming up tomorrow to talk to me.  I almost feel like I won’t totally go to pieces.  I feel brave enough to tell it like it is to him, and I think if he can’t deal – ie gets angry, disrespectful, tries to twist my words – I have the right to ask him to leave.  I will not put myself through what usually happens again.  Not worth it.

Although, I could be in a totally different frame of mind by tomorrow.

I just feel like things will be ok.  Might take awhile, but one day I’ll look back on all this and it won’t hurt like it does now.

x

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Yeah, I need to be more positive.  Or maybe just less negative.  I’m annoying the shit out of myself, let alone everybody else.  The problem is, I feel really really desperate in a way I never have before.  And yeah I try and hide it a bit when I’m talking to people but it seeps out.  And then sometimes I think “If you can’t handle me feeling like shit, just don’t talk to me”.  Because really, sometimes its just too bloody hard to smile and say “Yeah, I know things will get better” when there is absolutely nothing to base that on.

I know I will cope with everything, and I know I could cope with more (please god don’t make me cope with any more), but is it really necessary to seem happy with it?  And I only cope because it is the only option I have.  Not because I want to.

I know I’m not nice to be around at the moment.  Picture a feral animal, scared and hurt, snarling and lunging at the hands that try to help it.  That’s me.  Because this is the third time I’ve been told I need treatment for malignant tumours, and this time I am absolutely fucking shitting myself, and so terrified scared.  It is unlikely that I will die anytime soon from this, this time.  Everytime I come out of remission, the chances of complete recovery obviously lessen, and sometimes I just think, is this what my whole life is going to be? 

I have the most beautiful child in the world, and he makes things so much better, and so much worse.  Any mum will understand what I mean.  The anxiety I feel over Bailey is profound.  I never thought my marriage would fall apart so completely, and that I’d lose my health, within weeks of each other.  But if I can keep my son, and look after him, and nurture him and parent him properly, I feel like I can keep myself a bit too.  My grip on reality.  He’s my anchor.  If he’s exactly as he should be, I can cope.

Sorry this is all over the place.  Positivity.  I don’t feel like I can make more than a token effort at this point in time but I can appreciate things.  And I do.  Such small things affect me so greatly.  Dappled light coming through trees in the afternoon.  Bailey snuggling into bed with me on a cold morning.  Seeing my goats all fluffed up and curled together.  The smell of wood fires.  Green fuzz in the paddocks.  True friends who just accept me.

Just gotta keep on keeping on I guess.

x

 

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