You don't wanna even see my video trail over the weekend. Well, some of you probably would, but I think one week of pseudo politics/religion is enough this year. I can't do that auto reaction thing. Y'all might be into blowing people off, but I'm not hitting anybody with blow offs myself, so maybe I've transcended that brain train jerk off crap. Truth is what we make up, guys. Whatever you think you're standing for, there's nothing behind it if it's more important to walk on each other and be ridiculous than stop and actually think a little bit. I presented scientific data gathering over time, all it took was a misunderstood click bait title to knock the bicycles over. I'm kinda hurt after years out here that I was taken at such a shallow level. But that's on me, isn't it? I stepped out of my Pinky routine and there it went. I fell for the depression lie the other day. You know what? I'm so done with depression lies. I'm gonna rock what I want, and whether you get to see it or not is up to you. Kindess is logical, and I'm afraid that even if it was your only hope you'd miss catching on to that. I was a deeply committed Spock fan years before it was cool, and if you want to fancy yourself a hipster deep thinker, you need to understand what thinking actually really is. Watching TV doesn't make you a thinker. It makes you brain trained. The next time I share an up to date collection of scientific study and news reports from around the globe spanning the last 5 years and get blown off over a poorly titled source, well, there probably won't be a next time. Go spend your own hours finding the gold in all the drivel. I'm not going to tolerate an offer to actually discuss something cool in a rare public format being shot down so immediately by people who should by now know me better, omg. THAT was disappointing. Go back to your brain trained drivel. I'm eyeball deep in world science teams and translation software when I'm not interacting on a world server with people using actual manners learning to problem solve together.
Ok, back to real life. The last 6 or so weeks of uber stress feels like it's settling into a wonderful mundane routine again, and I hope I didn't just jinx it because that's usually how the next wild ride starts, with me noting how delicious boredom feels.
Go, click and get lost. I did.
I'm not really bored, far from it, but I'm thankfully not feeling frustrated, which I think was spiked by meds. One thing I talked about with psyche guy this month was how roller coasting through this year's nerve pain meds seemed to break open my depersonalization/dissonance, which I suppose could be a natural side effect, but when a person is already gear switching as a coping method, enhancing it isn't necessarily a good thing. Anyway, I know I've been overstating a lot lately, but soooo glad I'm off the baclofen and the withdrawal is finally over.
Well... Lambie (Doc McStuffins) singing in the background while I write this makes me feel a bit on the crazy side, so I'm trying to ignore it. Settling my brain into the toddler brain pool has its perks, but trying to brain real life with that kind of background going is maddeningly distracting.
I nearly didn't come back from this click.
Bunny is in the other room asking for a cell phone for her birthday. She's going to be 4... Pretty sure she'd be a twitter tycoon in no time.
K, I was gone for half an hour that time. Good luck.
I know, right? Game of Thrones marathon getting the world pumped up for the new season tonight and we're watching tiny tot toons. And my internet keeps browning out, so it's killing game time. Got all the laundry done, though. Oh wait, I hear Toy Story 3. *runs off* And the internet promptly died. Now it's today.
I may as well accept that I'm probably not going to be on board the live tweet train for awhile, possibly the rest of the year. I tried getting on twitter last night and the GoT onslaught was brutal so I just shut it all off. I remember the year I completely missed the very last season of TNG because life and kids, pre-DVR and even pre-satellite option for 2 channels at once in the same house. Years passed before I ever saw the rest of TNG.
Today is my 6 month equipment check for CPAP, so it's kinda like Christmas. I've gotta get to town so I can pick up all kinds of goodies. I'm being a very good girl and playing the compliance game correctly, so insurance is still paying for everything. I just have to keep my scores 70% or higher. I was doing better with hitting 80s more often but the baclofen withdrawal really threw me. Now I'm having to retrain my sleep again.
Last night's dreams were pure stress about getting the book out. So many people were in my dream, like a huge extended family (but mostly people I had no clue I was even related to), and we were all under a time crunch to get to an airport. I was handed my tickets and told the plan 2 hours before take-off, and I was trying to get a shower and get packed and people milling around this huge house and all my stuff kept getting scattered and one of the really older ones got in a car for a drive with a neighbor but left a note on an acorn (??? I probably follow too many squirrels on twitter), and the last thing I remember was one main guy who kinda looked like Michael Douglas in his younger days kept fussing at me about something, and when he finally laid on the floor blocking a door I needed to get through and all I had was a towel, a camel casually walking up the hall stopped and shat all over him and his nice suit, and I woke up laughing.
I reeeeeally wanna get that book out in the next 6 weeks. I'm hoping to have it organized enough to bypass the editor and go straight to publish, which means hard copy will be available around the world in a week flat, and it'll be up to me to get the big push going while they're available.
I wanna curl up in a bathtub full of coffee and melted chocolate and hide on a minecraft server.
This song has been stuck in my head for 2 days straight.
I know I've been absent. Some of you know I've been incredibly more capable than ever handling real life lately, and it's been a doozy, as always. Here's a touch base.
I believe in synchronicity. It's like that verse about all things work together for good for those who love, etc. Basically, it's mindful awareness in a mindset, and it really does work when we focus on priorities, needs, and goals. Things click into place because we are ready for them to do that, otherwise they slide on by largely unnoticed or out of sync. Things falling apart in real life around me don't frighten or upset me like they used to. Opportunities open all around as changes happen. Oftentimes opportunities can't break through stagnation, but suddenly become available as worlds flip over and jumble up.
So basically, I've arrived to a place where I have staff. I've joked (although I meant it) about @bonenado being my tech support, I've hinted about content support from someone who has read every word I've ever written, and now I have a sort of office management support with a person trained in legalese and form submission, granted in another field, but it still counts, and I got an agreement to check on me before the final file submission. That's huge since I'm the one who can't fill out basic forms to save my life, as per you're my lobster.
Y'all know my faceplant on form submission... lol. Hitting that final 'send' is what keeps freezing me up, and I've spent all spring working on walking away, letting go of the fret, allowing permanent flaws in what I cannot control kind of thing. THAT is hard. Funny story- there is a player on our multiserver that goes nuts when I write "I'm choppin punkins." I get corrected continually. That person would never survive on twitter.
That is the kind of thing I'm letting go of. Rulz. Aspienado loves all the rules about language, but I also love twitter speak and social media meme stuffs. I bend rules in my blogging all the time, even though I'm practicing on being a better writer. Part of being ME means incorporating my head quirks, and I often do that on blogs with inserted graphics, vids, and coding that emphasizes thoughts with color changes, along with other writing tools. I can't do that in a book. Part of writing a book is about formalizing the writing process, and while that can be a good thing, it also robs my Pinky style of integrating all the things into a story, and I 'get lost' in the reformat. I cannot copy/paste to an Office file and then put it through a format grinder (two if you count the publisher putting it through another grinder) without losing a great deal of what makes aspienado a thing.
I've got content. I've got tech. I've got the launch set up, a publisher contracted, and lots of go juice in my heart and soul. The problem is wrapping my head around that final button push. I need staff almost literally holding my hands to get me through a process that a lot of people who write probably find to be the easiest part, and it looks like my team is about ready to assemble.
Took quite a bit of life jumbling up for that to come together. I apologize. I'd like to disclaim that getting my book published is safe, but the cosmos demands otherwise, and every time I set a goal, a whole lot of jumbling up starts happening around me. Sorry about that, but the cosmos saw that I needed staff, and lo, the morning and the night were the quazillionth day, and the aspienado said It is good.
Don't worry, not going there. I don't put that stuff into my mouth any more. I'm just stuck on a word smash week where words ping around in my head and won't leave me alone. Like sternocleidomastoid. Why in the world that word popped into my head is beyond me. Those muscles aren't bothering me at all lately, which is a nice change. I really was bouncing philosophical stuffs around for awhile yesterday, though. I think my stomach butted in because I was too busy to notice I missed lunch.
I've had a few very interesting private convos this month, each were completely different subjects with completely different people, but they all had a common theme- I clearly didn't know what love even was growing up. I didn't question it, didn't expect it, didn't care about other people bringing it up, didn't feel sad about not feeling it, and almost never applied it to myself or anything going on around me. I did know, though, that I didn't feel it, even though I could feel protective or enjoy hanging out with my sister.
After I had a child, I spent a few years filtering through all the social pressures and expectations that becoming a parent opened my eyes to. By the time she was five I was eyeball deep in a relationship that would strip every last shred of innocence that my first marriage had somehow left tatters of still clinging around like old wallpaper. By the time my little girl was seven, I knew exactly what love was NOT, and wrote out 3 pages of gripping philosophical sadness that concluded humans discarding each other like used dryer sheets could only be cured by at least one person rising above the expectations for love and hope to become love and hope. While we wait for love to rescue our pitiful lives, love can never really happen and no one has hope, because waiting around for love to 'happen' cancels out what we think is supposed to be coming from someone else. If we are expecting it like that, we can't be it ourselves for someone else. But when we rise up and love anyway, hope becomes real for someone else. The one who does the rising up must do it not only without hope, but against all hope. As long as people discard each other like used dryer sheets, 'love' spreads like a virus, and we teach all the bad habits to new loves, and they in turn teach it to new loves, because love is a throwaway item. The baggage we carry infects more and more people around us until we grow bitter and lonely in our old age. I found that unacceptable. The only way to stop it is to stop treating each other like dryer sheets, objects that are supposed to fluff up our emotional lives, hold down the static, and make everything smell fresh.
My second marriage is well into its 23rd year, and not because it's easy and we're romantics. I am one of the most fortunate people I know, meeting someone who thinks the same way (not in so many words, but more intuitively after a painful childhood himself), and what makes it work for us is we're so terribly stubborn and not easily swayed with every little breeze of emotion. Oh, there's been emotion, long years of gritting our teeth through mess after mess, challenges upon challenges, and it all boils down repeatedly to neither one of us would ever abandon the other even on our very worst days, weeks, months, and years. We've both been abandoned, neglected, ignored, used and abused, and we both know what love is NOT. We know that looking around for something we don't create ourselves is a ridiculous lie to tell ourselves. We. Are. Love. Why look around for it and hope to find it when the next person is doing that too, looking around and hoping. How can we be what the other person needs from that point of view?
I don't feel emotions right like other people do. I don't feel loving. I don't feel kind. Love and kindness are philosophies of emotional logic I developed to survive, because without them I am terribly alone and deeply sad. I don't think I am capable of being in love correctly, yet I'm in love all the time. The euphorias I've developed in later age (hormones out of the way?) can now easily be triggered, and they are the only thing that's ever connected me to feeling happy, especially the first time when my brain was so chemical soaked that I was high on chemically induced love and felt happy for the first time in my whole life. I enjoy people and things, I laugh quite a lot, I am pleased with this and that, but outside of euphoric episodes, I don't feel happy. And I don't even think about that, whether I 'feel happy'. This has been discussed at length with a psychologist over several years, looked at from several angles that include autism spectrum with complications like synesthesia and narcissism and possibly even dissociation, the way my parents raised me and my years of wrangling with a conflicting belief system, my best friend being maliciously murdered, injuries from a nasty accident, a first marriage to a pedophile, an affair that wound up in what boiled down to a 'forced' abortion (reverse rape, complete with restraints)...
Did I just keep switching it all off? How do I switch it back on? Did I survive because I couldn't turn it on in the first place? Yet I puzzled it all out into a philosophy of being that my psychologist thinks on par with extremely advanced awareness levels and thought processing skills for young child, preteen, adolescent, and young adult. I absorbed philosophies like people around me absorbed holiday candy and TV shows and the other lies of social structure, stuck on roller coasters of feeling happy and unhappy because that's what modern society insists that we constantly assess in ourselves. Are we happy? Personally, I think that feeling is so easily mimicked putting sugar in our mouths that we've become accustomed to habitual feeding frenzies and then agonizing over all the ways food makes us unacceptable. Food porn. There are stories throughout history of socialites alternately gorging and starving themselves, but what darker secrets lurked beneath?
The reason the questions are coming back up is because I noticed I didn't feel anything doing something that another person would likely have found exciting, possibly even exhilarating. Sometimes I do something that other people would feel prone to brag about or use as personal resume padding, and I feel nothing, even though I know now that I should. I'm aware nowadays that I'm numb most of the time. I used to harbor anger like Dr. Evil petting Mr. Bigglesworth, but I've mostly let go of that, so I'm on a sort of testing ground, poking myself here and there to see if I'm feeling anything.
Happiness is conditional on people and events and material things and feelings affecting me, and there is nothing in this world that makes me happy, although eating certain foods used to come close. Nothing *makes* me happy. I never understood what happiness was even supposed to be, like what does it mean when people say they don't feel happy. I grew up completely missing the ability to grasp that concept. I've tried to word out my thoughts on it through the years in some of my silly surveys at Surveypalooza, but after I went through the initial euphoria (almost completely stopped eating and sleeping for 12 days and was continuously gurgling in a love state, which alarmed my psychiatrist), anyway, after I *felt* that, I finally had some kind of context, because I was able to say "I feel so happy." I had never felt happy before. No meds or drugs or events or people in my life had ever induced any kind of happy feeling even remotely like that, but as soon as I was in it, I recognized it. And then when the euphoric episode crashed back down, the happiness was over and I haven't really felt that kind of happiness since, even though I go through euphoric episodes fairly regularly now. I felt happy for 12 days out of my entire life, and the whole thing was a brain chemical imbalance.
Love and happiness are important, I know that. I know it's important that I help the people around me feel loved and happy, even if I can't or don't feel these things myself. I care deeply for the people around me, and I know I'm very lucky I actually have people in my life who love me back, even if I don't have any desire or need for them to go out of their way to do and say things to show me this. Well, poor @bonenado caught it a few times, but we're both hung up on our conundrums, and pretty much apparently nailed the love thing out of sheer stubborn devotion.
Not everyone is so lucky. Not everyone finds the glove that fits their weird hand. Not everyone feels understood and accepted, quirks and all. Not everyone feels comfortable just being themselves around people who are supposed to be the most important loves of their lives- parents, sibs, offspring. It's not something that came easily for me and Scott, and yet here we are, out of nothing more than sheer stubbornness and an unwillingness to drift alone again among the dryer sheets. Neither one of us can ever go back to that kind of thinking. We make the love we want and we live the love that we need. We've become for others what we desperately needed and didn't have for ourselves. It's been hard and it took time, but we are who we are and there was no other way to survive. We draw firm boundaries around misconceptions and dysfunctions, and we don't tolerate that crap in our own home. Our love depends on utter honesty, utter trust that the other won't leave over something stupid. My home is my sanctuary, and my people are exactly that- mine.
A great big part of this was letting go of and walking away from the kinds of things that perpetuate emotional codependency (dysfunctional relationships doomed to fail because they are not love even if they are disguised as love), chemical dependency (alcohol, drugs, meds), experience dependency (things inducing rushes of adrenaline and euphorias, shopping, thrill seeking, for some people gambling would go here), pretty much anything that masks pain, to put it very simply. To feel pain is one of the privileges of being on this earth (it seems designed especially for pain), and if souls and eternity exist in any form at all, then my being here is by choice because I wanted to learn something important. Blocking that process only slows down my spiritual progress and hurts other people. Even if I can't feel remorse or guilt, I know that is a bad thing and that I will be held responsible for being stupid. Years of deep reflection point no other direction than this- that we are here to learn to love through the toughest kinds of pain imaginable. It's ok to be weak and fall on our faces, but it's not ok to *not* learn from that, and once learned, it's definitely not ok to turn our backs on it and be selfish. I think this holds water in any religion or belief system you'd care to bring up.
My name is Broken Dragon, and that is my phyllosopapilla on life, the universe, and everything. I was 42 when I woke up. The next year I made a blog...
It's interesting thinking about the projections we live out in our heads. They never become real, but they run alongside, very real in their own sense, a sort of fallback of either comfort or conflict, quiet rooms of peace or busy rooms of problem solving.
They're all real.
We are so saturated with imaginary stories, surrounded by books, view screens, stages. We play dolls and house and doctor and cars and spy and superhero and all that from very young ages, and we never stop. We keep playing in our heads, on consoles, over medias, in journals. We live alongside piles of stories while we live out our own.
They're all real.
Could humans even live without some kind of running dialogue in our minds? Could we possibly be cognizant at all if it weren't for owning some kind of narrative? And we practice these narratives continually, consciously or not. It's just part of who we are, constant streams and blips of scenarios and convos while we're either figuring things out or escaping from something.
They're all real.
Everything we dream up, we are really doing, somehow, right here in our heads. All the simulations we run, all the imagined scenarios we play out, all of that is a very real part of who we are, what we are becoming as individuals and as civilizations.
They're all real.
There is only a very thin veil of consciousness between what is real on the outside of us and what is real on the inside of us. There are abysses of disagreement on what is real between two individuals, each spinning out thousands upon thousands of stories in their heads throughout their lives, but somewhere in all that they are aware of being real together in a unique way that doesn't come from the insides of their heads, because the only way they can possibly meet is on the outside. Still, what we bring to each meeting is all the stuff we carry around inside us.
They're all real.
Your reality, your realness, your stream of consciousness quietly humming along underneath a stream of neverending physical interaction in a multidimensional medium, your plethora of double lives, skewed realities, frustrating schisms, hopeful plans and dreams of happiness- hello from my timewarped stream of consciousness on Pinky blog.
We're all real.
Where is my head?
Keep this in mind- If you can think it, it is real, because it's coming from a real brain in real spacetime.
That is NOT the reason I've been auto scheduling posts.
I had not intended to be Pinky posting this morning at all.
But this happened overnight.
And I'd have totally blown it off as a bot swarm, except this. My hub was combed.
And as far as I can tell, it started with this. It clicks to my post.
And now I'm all wtf, did he actually die or something? O_O
Hello, Los Angeles. I won't zoom in, but you get the idea.
Since I'm here and this isn't an auto post, may as well do a power point and catch up.
Totally stoned on 300mg 3X a day gabapentin.
It's affecting my sleep.
I have proof because myair.resmed.com, although they would argue that I'm still doing fantastic for someone in their first 2 weeks on CPAP. I don't call 6 hours out of 48 'well done', although last night was thankfully better. Nothing like being stoned and brain wired... It's like being on pot and prednisone at the same time, and you know *both* of those make people feel snacky...
At any rate, THANK YOU once again to Kai for getting me past the launcher code fail and back into the server so I can focus into distraction enough not to whine all over everybody.
Otherwise I'm doing fantastic. Blood pressure has dropped so much that I've cut my BP med in half and even having to monitor that.
Yes, actually still writing a bit, although this week has been a bit off the wall, and we all know how I like walls.
My psychologist said that last line to me a couple days ago. I don't tell people what it's really like living in Wednesday for 2 straight weeks, among other things. #transparency
The only thing wrong with this picture is regaining the weight I lost. 😡 This ramping up the gabapentin thing has me wanting to snack like a pot smoker or something.
The fastest way to kill a blog or facebook and go dark is to start revealing and recoiling in horror at what you just did.
2. Outrage
Letting people know that no one understands when they try to reach out, fuming over others sharing what your new awareness is suddenly highlighting as everyone is doing it and loathing that they 'speak' for you.
3. Arguing
Going on massive research sprees and targeting #actually proponents with gleeful negativity memes and alternative information.
4. Despair
Feeling utterly stuck in a body and a world you utterly reject, and the only way forward is the way you weren't planning on going with your life.
5. Embracing
Meds, lifestyle, whatever- you are who you are and it's comforting to know you're not alone on whatever scary path this is.
It's real. Internet is just as real as real life. Connecting to other real people is just as difficult on media as it is in real life. Sharing who we are, our fears and joys, whatever we perceive our flaws to be versus whatever we perceive others are pointing out our flaws to be- all experiencing is real. Even if we're making it up, experience itself makes it real. Whatever illusion we create for ourselves, or that the world creates around us, it is very real to our hearts and souls.
We all have fears. While others are able to project their fears outwardly on vague presidential nightmares and whatnot, some of us dwell with daily fears of cytokine storm or SJS. Sticking to treatment is difficult, going out in public escalates anxiety, sitting home alone can become suddenly overwhelming.
The hardest thing some of us do is keep talking on social media. We don't want to be needy, we aren't trying to get negative attention, we hate baiting for response- we just want to worry about the stupid little things like ordering online going screwy or getting the wrong order in a restaurant or being stuck in traffic. Well, we don't like those things either, but given bigger picture, anyone on lengthy treatment dealing with personal demons or cancer or crippling diseases tend to take the little things more in stride after awhile, or simply lump it into everything sucks.
I've been on social media a long time. I've been in an out of groups and forums, on and off both facebook and twitter, moved around both publicly and privately on a few blogs, and I've seen just about everything that can go down. Everything I see out there is redundant. It all eventually boils down to Who am I? and What do I want? There is nothing I can plug into that will ever make my depression or anxiety go away, no person I can lean on without eventually breaking them, no cause I can stick through without dealing with some kind of burnout. In the end, it really does come down to Who do I want to be?
The sky is the limit. Your brain is your infinite possibility manufacturer. It's all real, and you're part of all of us, even when you think you're not. We are here to Be Someone and Do Something, and as far as I can ascertain after all these years stuck in my stuff and seeing other people stuck in their stuff, we can all still learn how to be Kind.
Kindness isn't about patting people on the head or being a yes person. It's not about fixing things for other people or trying to *make* them feel better. You can't really do any of that, and if you try, you'll sooner or later become very frustrated.
Kindness is allowing people to be themselves without stomping on their heads for being stupider than you, or kicking them with truth when they're already down. Kindness is about recognizing that we all have a very short time here, life sucks for all of us in some way or another, and what you revile in someone else might be a completely erroneous perception and definitely gets in the way of kindness.
A thing that struck me growing up in the bible was that people had to be told to be kind to animals and slaves. Let the oxen eat while they are tied to a giant heavy wheel. Treat your slaves fairly and justly, and make sure they are taken care of when you set them free so they aren't just turned out onto the streets. The idea that we can use others without recompense or thought, even on social media, is a prevalent concept in our lives.
We have the power to remake the world around us. We may be riddled with fear and anxiety, drowning in self loathing and depression, flaming the world around us in vitriol, but our power lies in ALL OF US learning the art of Kindness. We can go down with our Titanics, or we can remold our illusions into something much more useful.
Way too thinky.
#transparency Med dose adjusting sucketh. Plz to forgive if I meltdown, & if anyone needs me I'll be making nachos. Bcuz weird head stuff. I can do this. I'll keep touching bases and hopefully this won't get too weird. Kinda went a little 2012 all sudden yesterday.
Well. Might get interesting. Had to skip my blood pressure med last night. My pressure came back up enough to take it this morning, 124/83, but last night without any help at all it was 117/73. I've had to take a blood pressure med twice a day for 2 decades trying to keep my crazy blood pressure controlled, have been through so much stuff over it. Get a little air pressure while I sleep *bing* fixed.
The interesting part is that one of the reasons I'm on this particular med is for breakout SVTs, even after surgery. You don't just stop a beta blocker when you have those. I'm very curious to see if the breakouts were symptomatic from what is now being addressed. If my BP stays down and I don't have any more breakouts, it's conceivable I'll be able to get off my BP med. Conceivable. Not holding my breath yet.
Exciting for me, boring for you. Moving on.
Not really here to yap, actually. Need to get groceries today after an appointment, nice out but cold, not complaining one bit because this beats snow and ice. This will be my first jaunt out since doubling my gabapentin. I've been a little stare at the walls, but I think I've adapted enough to do this today. H*o*p*i*n*g I get my minecraft launcher figured out tomorrow so I can get back on multiplayer. In the meantime, playing survival in a realm and doing awesome stuff even though my compatriots have abandoned me for multiplayer. I made 15 blocks of obsidian from survival scratch, time to make an enchantment table. Running cross country looking for a village library to raid, if I don't find one soon I'll just kill a ton of cows on the way back and make my own books. When I get on multiplayer, I'm going raw and totes gaining status and wealth from my super chill skillz.
Loving the new Sherlock fanvids coming out. They're very spoilery and super dark, so for now I'm going with this goodie just to be ornery. If you haven't seen season 4 yet, GO. NOW.
So the other day someone publicly reminded me that they are a big fan of mine and to have a great new year. Since that particular person was a key pivot in how I interact publicly, and then a later reminder why I've stopped tit for tat support for it's own polite sake, I didn't respond at all. Call me rude, but being prodded like a work horse on demand without so much as a shared link back or even a personal click to see what my own deal is during interaction crisis (from my point of view, probably completely missed and at least ignored from the other point of view), how could this aspienado conceivably keep up any kind of polite face? For someone claiming some sort of savvy in the writing and publishing world, I'm not sure what I'm seeing on that account is much different from actor obsession and possibly internal challenges not that much different from mine but never acknowledged.
It's one thing to miss being polite about help with several hours of tech support and no recompense, it's another to be praised with odd nicknames and the kind of intimacy that misleads others and still doesn't really share my part of the work back. (Several people noticed and asked me privately what was going on, it was so obvious. The fact that *I didn't shred this person in a live feed* means humongous personal growth.) If treating me like a butler and then a cousin is how we define this 'friendship' (using that word as loosely as possible without dropping it), then I'd love to submit my resignation and never be tagged again. It could have been part of a bigger beautiful mutual support network I'm building, but I think bigger picture gets pretty lost on some people.
Aspienado wrangles relationship meaning like a cat, which also leaves me wondering how this person could possibly not get it, with all those cat pix... I am NOT- have never been and will never be- Pinkapalooza or Pinkmeister or any of the other nicks that don't seem to stop with this person. That rankles me like someone jamming a pointy stick up my nose.
So this is a challenge. Part of being public (along with having my facebook identity copied) is being projected upon. People will see me the way they see me, and I have no control over that. I must allow others to be themselves and see the world the way they see it, even if it means they jovially nickname me and prod me to interact. Doesn't mean I have to respond, it just means I need to let it go and stop allowing that kind of stuff to turn my head. I'm too easily distracted over things that don't have near the depth of meaning I lend to it (dump on it, smother it in...), and part of my aspienado challenge is to stop turning aside for that kind of stuff. It's just part of the process, and actually a good part, so instead of ruining it with darker colors and venom because I'm a weirdo, I'm going to do what I can this year to say THANK YOU. I don't exactly mimic elegant delicacy, but it doesn't mean I can't aspire to it.
Back to here and now. We have Bunny one more day. She's almost clear to go back to daycare, yay! I'm so worn out from this really long 'vacation' (started in mid December) that I'm losing control over 'zoning'. Yesterday Papa wasn't even back out the door with her yet and I was already globbing all my words up and suddenly just spacing out at distant walls in mid sentence. I needed down time so badly last night that I was in bed by 6, and I'm still not sure how I'm going to get through today. Lalaloopsy and 'puppy show' are ruining me. My thinkability plummets into 3-year-old land and Bunny is thrilled to find herself smarter than Meemaw. I have nothing but praise for people who are able to work with small children all day. My own sploit was a very quiet child because autism spectrum, and didn't start the talking a lot stuff until nearly 4 years old, so, besides helping out with Bunny's mama during chicken pox and stuff, this is my first real venture into all-day ADHD nonstop 3-year-old broadcasting. I find Bunny very enjoyable and extremely pleasant for her age, but there just isn't break time at all for hours and hours. Thankfully I've got years of her mama under my belt, but the full time stuff started at 5 years old, so I'm an aspienado meemaw teetering on a the brink of zone fail as opposed to going full zone. I'm remembering my Jedi training, as it were.
For now, I'm holding my days down to fighting with W10 xbox minecraft beta controls. I discovered yesterday I don't have colored glass in my inventory and I can't make any manually, so grrrr.
First of all, I get 2 more 'days off', which is technically today and Monday. Can I just get a big ol' thumbs up on that, thanx.
Second, Bunny's surgery was, indeed, rescheduled to after Christmas, which means the recovery time we previously set aside at my house will be freed up, and even though @bonenado will be on xmas vaca by then, my house won't be getting pulled apart before Christmas, which leaves that time free to finish getting some other things done. Pinky needs a cheering section.
My doctor wants to pull me from physical therapy and fast track me back to my neurologist, so that's how this month is going for me. PT usually helps really well, but I guess I've hit another limit and it's irritating more than helping at the moment. I'll spend the next two sessions in a more 'defining a rest plan' (activities? work outs?) and some kind of next step thoughts for if/when I go back in a couple of months, and then assess out for the winter. I was intending to touch base with neurologist after assessing out anyway, but doctor today said noooo, *now*. Seems I'm having some interesting nerve flares in new places and that's not cool. My blood work came back great (humongous relief, no sign of auto-flare) except my chloride is a tad low. That's never happened before and also jaunts us off into new directions of keeping eyes on other things. Nothing immediately serious, but might asplain a few things.
At the moment, I can feel my entire spine (*it hurts*) and a few outlying serfdoms are complaining about their houses not being overlorded well, and I'm threatening to go all Ramsay Bolton on an arm and leg if they don't shut up.
Apologies. I usually don't discuss delicate matters while entertaining in my castle. Let's get back to cheering something. This is a real thing.
I cannot believe I actually never thought of this before. In all the years I've been on the webs, I have always used a legit registered business or pen name and not my birth name (my real name really is Jan) because there are a million jillion of me and it just doesn't stand out. It occurred to me this morning that if I want to go anonymous, all I have to do is use my real name and quietly disappear into a whole cloud of me. I've never done that before. I've never even really looked up my own name before because 1- it galls me, and 2- it's so factory redundant that I take no delight in seeing who else has it. But I did today. And I could see how easily y'all could never find me again if I did that. Holding that thought in case I manage to actually sell something and wanna lurk a little without being jumped on.
So, Today. I've gained a day back, I am so gonna get all over stuff. Dishes and laundry are behind, menu planning needs to happen, wanna finish an excavation project- kinda redoing my kitchen in slo-mo. That big area rug isn't down yet. It could be before Christmas. Also, I've got graph paper out. I'm doing cool fun stuff on Kai's realm and I'll be taping together 6 pages of graph paper to help me create a framed sculpt. When I get it done I'll post pix on my minecraft blog. I've got several updates for that blog I could be working on, too.
Do you guys ever check the logins on your accounts? Some accounts, like G+, automatically let me know if someone tries to log in with a wrong password, but many accounts don't. For instance, I discovered today that my another one of my accounts had an unsuccessful login attempt last Wednesday.
It's easy to geolocate IP addresses.
If this had been an IP lookup for geolocation on an IP showing up in my tracker, it could have pinged 5 different ways, depending on the device, the software, the service, the browser, a mask, and a few other possible things. Like sometimes an out of country visitor will ping through Mountain Home because Google translate, which is in California, simultaneously ping in through one of a handful of states depending on a facebook bot if that's where they clicked the link, ping a region and then a couple of cities depending on their carrier service and whether it's layered with a wifi plan or something, etc. I'm getting really used to seeing how people ping in looking at my stuff. This particular login attempt (not a link click or keyword search) was very DIRECT, local, and either bot-coded not to ping anything in a list more than once to draw attention, or was a live person playing around typing in my name. There was only one attempt because it's so easy to raise flags nowadays doing that.
When I check my facebook login, I can show up in several different states just depending on what device I'm using. I am familiar with my own IP proxies and regularly fuss with statcounter about their project cookie blocker since it blocks a fuzzy spread that isn't just me, so statcounter and blogger disagree on how many IPs are actually eyes on blog. Stuff like that.
I know this is a lot of gunk that seems unnecessary, but if you haven't yet secured your accounts with security backup codes, you need to. If I log out of an account and then log back in, even on the same device a few seconds later, that account will send a security code TO MY PHONE, and I will have to type that code into my login to continue. So far I've never had a security code show up out of the blue to my phone without it being me. If one ever does, I'll know someone is trying to login and trips the verification wire. The account that stopped the login attempt left me a note that it wasn't necessary for me to check my backup since security wasn't breached.
I kind of joke around sometimes about site hacking. My kind of slang for 'hacking' is running into back doors on unsecured pages. I never try to login to someone's account. Ever. I'm really good at finding holes and flaws in host site security, and it's usually accidental. I can assure you Vimeo is one of the worst sites for actual security. A few years ago Facebook was so bad that I was able to find back doors into private timelines whenever I wanted. They've got that fixed now, but it still doesn't help that their source code is unsecured. Myspace got so bad that they had to just wipe and rebuild, and before their rebuild I was going in manually recoding my embedded youtubes every few months just because they kept upgrading their security and knocking the coding off. Things are a lot better nowadays, but there are still lots of holes and ways in and around accounts to see content without logins, so if someone is actually trying to login, it's to get your personal info- banking, location, birthdate and social, OR to royally screw and spam your account. I've watched a few people work diligently trying to get swiped twitter accounts back when all they had to do was secure it with a login code in the first place to prevent all kinds of stress and tears.
I'm not saying that's foolproof. Last year my Facebook personal info was hijacked into a foreign 'facebook' account and someone was pretending to be me. It was harmless, but believable, so I contacted Facebook security and they were very prompt looking into it. I don't know if their promptness had anything to do with my Facebook account being what I use to verify a couple of other accounts, but hubbing accounts definitely helps prove you are who you say you are, especially if they're all sharing the same email address. The flaw with this is how vulnerable the entire architecture is if the email address is compromised, and I've seen that happen, too. One of the reasons I'm very open about who I am across social media is so it will be very obvious if any of my stuff ever gets hijacked. I'm hub verified through gravatar, about me, G+, and even had a real pinterest verification before they decided to upgrade verification requirements.
Years ago, a few people did try to login to some older accounts I had that I could see happening over and over on a really good tracker, and when I first set up G+ I got a solid login attempt notification complete with IP and a sweet little zoom map. I expect people to test me once in awhile when I toss around being a little bit tech savvy, so I publicly blew it off, although I'll always have that info. I'm sure there've been other attempts I don't even know about, but the personal attempts have pretty much stopped with multiple step verification turned on, because that's the fastest way in the world to find out there's a hack attempt going down live. I know that sounds exciting, but it's not. It's mostly just a big facepalm and extra work having to check on who is it now kind of thing.
Since I do have friends all over the world connected with me across my social medias, I'm quite used to seeing a wide variety of areas pinging my trackers. It's fun to watch numbers and maps, and sometimes I can even pin down who they are, but mostly it's a sport I really don't have time for. Login attempts, however, get my full attention. And I know some of you will naively shrug that off as spam bots, but bots swarm around sticking on without ever having to login. You'd be amazed how many porn site pingbacks Pinky blog gets from people playing around with apps looking for keywords, and don't worry, those don't show up in statcounter.
As always, this kind of stuff makes a birthday more fun, like last year. I'm taking a quiet day off not doing much, dinking around my piles of stuff and running into things. I bought a waffle iron to make chocolate cake waffles this year, but I haven't even started that yet. I'm thinking about playing around with a coffee flavored cream cheese fluff dip. I know Scott won't be crazy about it, but I bought him some ice cream today to make up for it.
This song has really been sticking with me the last few days. I think it's a birthday thing. There's so much I want to talk to her about, but so many years passed that I think we've just lost that part, and all we can do is let there be a gap. It's funny that most of my life has been about big gaps left behind me...
I'm just now looking at my fantasy team this week. Looks like my guys are done. Uh-oh, looks like Jim has one player left tonight. I could still yet be toast.
Mold count in Spfld is over 45,000 already. My sinus is on fire. Hello, autumn flood season. Wait, we have an autumn flood season?
O_O !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was looking for a demotivational poster for autumn and ran right into this. My brother took that pic, and I know because he took it several years ago on his property and used it as a cover on his music site back then, and I told him it was a really nice pic and he told me he took it himself. Incidentally, when you click this pic back to source you can see the date this poster was loaded, which is 2 weeks after our mom died. I looked through the user posts and found out the birthday month is different, so my brother didn't make this. You can see the same landscape in a post I wrote that included a pic from one of his kiddo's wedding reception.
The synchronicity is strong this morning. *gets more coffee*
Busy week coming, gotta rock out the door every day till Friday, and I'm not holding my breath on that one. I will say one thing. Any man who gives a woman crap during a severe post partum crash is pure selfish, and meemaw is pretty pissed.
Although it goes against my better judgement and experience to keep promoting other people's junk, this slid into my DMs and now it's your #mondaymotivation. I'm not endorsing this person, but yeah, this is about where my head is right now.
Wow, got 8 hours again last night. Why don't I feel pleased?
click that cranky face if you need major diversion *now*
Got the scoop on the new server yesterday, no more towny, warp stores will be all different, I'll need to learn golden protection. There are loads of land claim servers using this, so learning something new is good. Who knows if I'll ever get prolific enough to handle other servers, but I don't see that before the year is out.
I'm really liking the being able to push through slumps on this gabapentin. The amount of sleep I'm getting is still back and forth with the manic swings, few nights ago was 5 hours tops for a couple of nights, then 6, and all that without naps, so getting back to a full night is probably a good thing. I miss the surge of boing on euphoric weeks, but if it helps my pain level to sleep, then LET'S SLEEP, by gummies.
Ok, this sweaty feet thing is NOT cool. >=l No idea if it's the gabapentin (neurontin, day 8), but I've been changing my sox every 2-3 hours and even going barefoot. I know, it's summer, I'm *supposed* to go barefoot, but I'm a sox person because way too many squishy surprises and then gagging while I wash my feet. #lifeinthewoods Since the rest of me isn't sweaty, I have no idea what's up with that.
But still... Imagine the scenarios that could really come out of a cat's head. We've memed them to death, but have we missed something? Anything? Are they really that transparent? Are we really that gullible?
I started this yesterday because I felt so crap I couldn't watch TV or do anything or even lay down for awhile and I was doing my best to focus and concentrate on doing something through pain, so unless you're desperate for something to read, save yourself and flee this post.
There is a place on earth worse than the DMV, and that's the social security office.
I saw a lot of all kinds of people today. I sat in a hard chair for nearly 90 minutes waiting for a turn I thought would never come, and I listened to a guy behind me talk nearly the entire time about everything in his whole life clear back to the 90s. I know his family ancestry, his work history, where he banks, what the inside of his home looks like including detailed descriptions of his furniture, where he actually lives, a number of people he's met, how various family members died, whole convos he's had with landlords, and through the entire thing he never once mentioned a spouse, children, or pets. Not once. He never shut up for well over an hour and never once brought up a relationship. And that whole time I couldn't tune him out because super aspie's so aspie, and the pain running along the nerve paths in my shoulder and neck ramped up into a delightfully nasty headache, and by the time my name was called, the people near me were actually leaning away, I'm sure probably because I looked like that one person in the entire collection of mentally and physically disabled specimens that might actually pop a cork and have a real meltdown. I did my best to sit still and not look like I hate the whole planet, because I really don't, it's just the pain, but I was this close to tears and the only thing holding them back was allowing myself to be pissed that the guy just wouldn't shut up.
I was the scary one in the room. The quiet type who visibly struggles to hold back whatever is fighting to get out.
The guy who finally called me back was awesomely nice. He assured me that I had the short form, and that simply mailing it back at all with any kind of noted touch base with a real doctor in the last 2 years was all they wanted, because so many people get their disability settlements and disappear. He looked up my stuff and was surprised I got the short form, because at this stretch of time people usually get the long form, so he looked some more at the notes about my disability hearing and was impressed and said no wonder. I said yeah, I'm one of those that got it on the first try, both cognitive and physical, and part of the visit today was making the mistake without supervision before I mailed it off. He assured me again it would be fine, and not to worry about that triggering a more lengthy reevaluation or stopping my payments. At first I was a little confused by the continued reassurances, but I guess he didn't understand- I was there because of typos. I told him I wasn't worried about another evaluation, hadn't even thought of losing the financial support. My medical file isn't growing any thinner. I was there because my cognitive disability compulsed me to freak out about typos. I'm an autism spectrum freakazoid who can't live with something written down wrong on a piece of paper. I have piles of spirals all over my house full of scribbled notes, years and years of spirals, and no matter how many notes I write and how many blogs I have, I still make stupid mistakes on simple forms and never even notice. There is something about filling out forms that shuts my intelligence center down. I'm professionally trained to assess and care plan and tech talk, but hand me a form and all I have to do is write down a number and sign it, I get it wrong every time.
I don't say that much about what really motivated me back out on the webs. I've mentioned just missing being in an accident that would definitely have been fatal, but I barely mention the stuff that happened afterward, or all the stuff that was going on around that time. No one saw my world blowing apart.
You know how I start time skipping in June and think I've missed the 4th of July? It got really super bad in 2012, which I've mentioned, but the irony behind it is all the real life stuff I was juggling with the people around me by the time the 4th really arrived, and all the stuff that blew up over the next couple of weeks among them afterward. I handled so much stress for so many other people, and no one had a clue what it was doing to me, or that I'd already had what most people would call a nervous breakdown. I'm nice enough not to spill too much for public, but all the same, that was a pretty tense tightrope at first.
I am here because I started blogging publicly. Bluejacky blew up with one survey after another that summer, grandfortuna came back out of oblivion, I reopened new twitter and facebook accounts, and I held on for dear life staying as public as I could with a plan I devised, because this is what my real life was feeling like.
I saw that full screen in a theater, and I'll never forget how shocking it felt to suddenly realize what it must feel like being the aliens crashing onto an unfamiliar planet. What only one person at the time in 2012 actually knew (I confided in @bonenado) was that I had reached a place where I wasn't sure I could stop myself from a compulsive leap into the fuzzy unknown, because I had so little grip on what was actually reality for a few weeks that summer, and I didn't want to be labeled a suicide just because my head was melting apart. I might have been vehemently against my own suicide and still not been able to stop it. I had to create another reality to be present in, to show up for. I had to come back and be my avatar. Sometimes it's ok to escape real life like that, as long as I stick to my preset guidelines and focus on my goals. Every bit of this was supervised by my psychologist. What those of you who've watched all this have seen is genuine live blogging through very real crisis.
My ship had already gone down years earlier, and although it was a somewhat controlled crash, it was much more devastating and destructive and very pre-psychologist. That crash lasted for 3 years, and nearly everyone who was in the Lexx fandom back then had no idea this is exactly what it felt like was going on in my real life for that long.
My whole life has been a series of crashes. My car wreck is obvious, an actual crash. I've talked about the monitored double hormone crash in 2012. I've been through some debilitating systems crashes that nearly destroyed me physically and some devastating losses that broke me emotionally, the bulk hitting in 2004 nearly all at once. I've crashed off addictions like alcohol and medications. I've been through a very long string of friendship crashes. If there is anything I know how to do, it's survive a crash, but knowing and experience doesn't make the next crash any easier.
What's different now is I'm coming out of all those crashes. I've been doing physical therapy for 4 years for old injuries from the car crash. I've been following a whole different lifestyle the last 5 years for the plethora of chronic illnesses that crashed me. I've been seeing a psychologist for 9 years now after the several really big emotional crashes (losses) happening all around the very physical crashes. Maybe I'm almost ready to talk about the real real stuff that goes on in the middle of crashes, like how I keep kicking when I know another crash might just be the last if I don't keep hanging on.
While some of you pinball between trying to figure out the disparaging meaning behind mass shooters and the sadness of suicides, I'm treading what feels like an ocean full of gunships and subs, helos flying over, on alert for missile launches and air strikes in all directions. It's not so bad nowadays, perhaps going public really was the life preserver I needed in all the chaos, because I haven't been so immediately and continually summoned by people around me nearly so much since then. The pressure has definitely lessened, and I've been able to start processing my own stuff instead of constantly swooping in for others blowing drama into crises. One of my rules for public blogging was it has to be about ME. My stuff. Not their stuff. But one of the clauses is that when people intersect in my life, it becomes my stuff, doesn't it? I think that's why several people in real life suddenly backed off. We've got some spectacular laundry that I keep saying would make great TV material.
Something about sitting at the social security office has triggered all this, so I'm trying to work through it here on Pinky blog. This post is getting way longer than I intended, and I'm not sure of the direction, so I'm just letting stuff flow out.
My mom made me learn to hold things in growing up. If you have an autie/aspie child and you are familiar with meltdowns, imagine what it would take to force that child to learn to never display their real feelings. (Some of you just did a quiet omg what happened in your heads.) Imagine someone like that under a great deal of stress holding everything in for many years because they'd been pressured all their lives to do that, maybe by another person who'd been pressured all their life to do that, maybe by someone who was just plain mean or ignorant. Imagine that you have no idea how many people like that exist around you on any given day. Unless they talk nonstop about their lives like that guy sitting behind me at the social security office, you have no idea what kind of person they are. They can be clean and dressed decently and quiet and polite and you'd assume that person couldn't possibly do whatever it is that people say surprises them. You'd never see it coming.
I'm not the only one in this world who lives a normal life in front of a lot of bad memories. I can't speak for other people, only for myself, but as I stand up and speak for myself, others may feel like I also speak for them. Inside of me there are flames and horrors and screams that no one ever sees. There is cruelty and meanness and great swaths of sadness that could swallow a universe.
But inside me there is also an ability to let it all go in an instant of distraction, or a few moments of quiet. All it takes for me to survive is a time out. I time out as often as I can as long as it's safe for me to do so. I did my best to time out over and over at the social security office today. It's so easy to click-lock my eyes onto sunlight filtering past leaves or blinds, or an odd color or pattern on a wall or floor, but it's really difficult to do that with rows and rows of a hundred people lined up to face each other. So many faces in the way, trying not to see each other, feeling out of place, looking anyway and recoiling or pretending to smile. I'm usually pretty good nowadays about being able to look up and smile, but I just couldn't yesterday, and I couldn't just let the pain dictate how my eyes meet other eyes. Humans are so good at killing with their eyes. I was in kill mode. For most people, that's simply just a hateful look. For some of us, it's a warning that meltdown is imminent. The last thing other people need from me on their own bad days is a meltdown. I've had a couple of public meltdowns, but the disclaimer in me needs me to say I was legally stoned out of my mind on pain meds and muscle relaxers and still so terribly miserable, and I couldn't stand looking back at myself behaving like that. One of the big reasons I cleaned off prescription meds is because I don't want to go to my grave with people thinking Thank God that's over. It's an awful thing not to be able to control your behavior and realize it makes people wish you weren't around. I have a mean enough personality without meds as it is. When I lost my best friend over this stupid conundrum, I spent a year grieving and then set out to change my life.
I have to insert a disclaimer that on good days, I can carry on convos with strangers like we're best buds, as long as it doesn't last too long, but if someone I know is with me, they get squirmy because I am a little too friendly, and I think it gets creepy or something. Like, Scott pulls me away and steers me clear of people handing out pamphlets on my talky days. I'm creepy. You'll wish you never handed me a pamphlet.
I would like to describe what a time out feels like. It's a literal time out. There is no time. Even just a moment of time out feels like a different place, and I'm really there. It's not an imaginary place, I don't invent it or visualize going to it. It's just there. It's always there. It's like the flip side of here. Here is always here, there is always there. When I am there, it's just me, no one else. There's no hint of all the here I disengaged from. Sometimes I can keep both open, but usually I space out to the point of completely missing what's happening right in front of me. I imagine that makes me look fairly mental. It's kind of a joke between me and @bonenado. If I'm spacing out while he's driving, it's a very good thing. If I'm spacing out while I'm driving... not so good. I have to stay vigilant and self monitor when I drive. I've tried telling doctors I need to legally become a nondriver, but so far no one has taken me seriously. I'm a great driver, no accidents for decades, no problems or tickets, but 2012 broke and I haven't 'come back' in my car yet. That year, though, I did have a good delayed Tourette's related PTSD in my car convo with my psychologist. What super triggered the old crash memories was flying. I came back and couldn't make myself touch my steering wheel for a solid month while I was driving. I haven't flown since.
Back to time out. There, light is a thing. Colors are things. They don't need to be part of anything else to be defined or to even be. I go into light and colors a lot. Colors are like a different language. I'm not talking about frequencies and vibrations, but maybe I am. Maybe I can see the sciencey things differently in my head. I get other dimensions, too. If I let go and don't think about it, I can watch how other dimensions work. I've never been able to describe what I get in my head, and I realize it's because they need to be described in relation to something tangible, so there's no context for sharing. I recognized fractals when I first ran into them because I'd played in my head like that when I was a kid. I recognized Smale's horseshoe because I think about that kind of stuff all the time in my head. I was thrilled when multi universe theories started coming out because I'd already played with the 'fabrics of spacetime' in my head. Parallel worlds and alt universes are think tank toys I played with growing up. By the time string theory rolled in, I was already past turning music into light into objects into effervescence in my head. Once in awhile I'd try to describe the cool stuff I could see, but people say things like "You think too much" and shut me down. I wasn't exactly thinking, I was free associating through thought. Thinking is focused, time out is just floating through the nirvana of all the things. I've never told anyone light can talk, and I don't mean like we talk, but I bet science would back me up if I said it differently. That kind of stuff.
I would never be able to talk for a solid hour about my family history and work history and my bank and my furniture and the convos I've had with strangers, but it's a fair bet that guy from the social security office is on a spectrum like I am. He's a living recording machine and I'm guessing he can't stop broadcasting long enough to develop relationships, so he fills his voids playing his recording to everyone he meets. Maybe he's incapable of timing out. He mentioned being able to go days without sleep, even on handfuls of sleep presciptions, yes, which he named off, dosages included. Whatever his soul is on this earth for, he has done it all through a brain hard wired to record and play back everything that's ever intersected with his life. What impressed me most was he seemed so nice and sociable in spite of all that, like the absence of time outs didn't phase his demeanor while he could rattle off every bone and cartilage and process in the human body, there was no hint of ill will or even opinion, just the constant regurgitation of experience. That doesn't mean he's not a ticking time bomb, and eidetic memory doesn't always equate to being capable of advanced theoretical discussion, but his brain chemical cocktail was obviously way easier to live with than mine. The more he talked behind me, the more I slid into hardcore shutdown trying to stave off meltdown, and even though everything he said was actually interesting and pleasantly shared, it was all I could do not to turn around several times and ask him if he never shuts up, and knowing that could be part of his disability is the only thing that kept me sane through it. I'm pretty sure I'd have found him delightful as a people watching study if my pain level hadn't been shooting holes through my head.
~~~~~~~~~~
Ok, this is today, Friday.
That was a lot of stuff!!!!
Now we need way different stuff. I've probably shared this one before, but bless the fans who do this stuff. You save me like nothing else in this whole world.
K, I've got stuff to do, need to get order pulled together before Bunny spends the night tomorrow, get back on my work track, the usual basic stuff. I just wanted to say, I'm still here. Despite how it looks sometimes, I truly am grateful for every single person who has ever interacted with me online, and you guys need to know you've been meaningful enough to help me stay focused on more healing and hanging in through all the pain, both physical and emotional. I made a Pinky promise not to disappear off the webs again, and that's a real thing. Yesterday was really hard again, this whole week, month, and year has been really hard again, but I'm on a calmer ocean nowadays and I just need to remember to touch base and be the avatar I created. We can do this.
