Let me start off with being completely and frankly honest: I don’t know how well I’ll do with this blog long term.
My Darling Wife, shown below on the day we met (I tripped face first into her mid-introduction), has been super supportive of me. But I feel like I also have to try and build myself up.
Normally, I procrastinate. I am a champion procrastinator; I’ll put things off, get distracted mid-sentence, lose focus. It’s an unfortunate side effect of being me. Yay for a weirdly wired brain! I also tend to interrupt a lot, as my brain works too quickly some times. Not all times, but sometimes. And I don’t mean to be rude, but I sometimes speak faster than I think. I tend to jump into the middle of people’s sentences and try to end them how I think they were going to, or with commentary that pops out without much thought as to censorship. Drives my Darling Wife bonkers when I cut in when she’s speaking. I’m working on it. Because I know it is frustrating and I don’t actually want to be rude.
And as you can see, from the above, I’m great at taking forever and a week to get to the point. What I’m trying to get at is I’m just going to jump into a project. Mid-month. Gods. Mid-month. Just on a random day. My brain twitches a bit at the thought but I’ll mime jabbing it with a cotton swab later and take another dose of my anti-panic attack meds and just do it.
I’m terrified of failure, you should know. Maybe not much more than the average human, but I do actually use the word “terrified” with all its weight. I’d rather speak publicly than fail. But I also know without failure and mistakes, there is no growth or progress. So. Much like everything else, I’m just going to try.
I love changing my hair when I get stressed. This past July I buzzed it all off. Completely. Now I’m rocking a mohawk that I’m going to turn a similar red to the above.
I love to read. (I promise, I have a point and I’m getting there. Run, jog, meander with me for just a moment longer.) When I can’t sleep, which is often, I read. When things get difficult, again often, I turn to books or other forms of escapism like movies or music. Books are what I was raised with, brought up surrounded by no matter where we lived. In comfort and joy, in homeless shelters and on park benches, there is always a book to be found somewhere. And libraries are of particular comfort for me. From trying to wrap my five year old tongue around the syllables of the Jabberwocky to re-reading another old or new favorite book (currently, Mercedes Lackey, Anthony Melchiorri, J. K. Rowling, Jane Austen, and the ever-present J. R. R. Tolkien are in the re-read pile), I’ve always got books. Even when I crammed my material goods and my cat and managed to fit my entire life in the back of the only car I’ve ever owned, there were more books than anything else.
With this blog, I’m sharing my journeys through the fictions of others, the creation of my own, and my truths of my life. Mental health is something I struggle with daily. Physical health as well.
I’m not going to update every day, I don’t think. I don’t know if I have enough to say to update every single day. I don’t know the actual “update schedule” for this blog as of yet, if there is ever one. Hell, there are times I may not update for a solid week because I simply can’t. There are a multitude of reasons, most of which I will eventually share here.
The main reason, however, is thus: I don’t have as many usable hours in my day. There’s about a two hour window I get where my pain levels die down to a low roar, if and only if I’ve taken my Tramadol, and I’m not exhausted to the point of nausea. On a really good day, it can go as high as six hours without feeling like I’m going to pass out. Unfortunately for me, I hold a full time job. Which means I’m already squeezing more time than I actually have out of myself. And because of how awful my insomnia is, I don’t often get recovery time at night. I run on maybe three solid hours of sleep a night, four to five on the weekends, and haven’t yet seen a specialist for it because it’s been my life since I was seven.
And even with the shortage of low pain/no exhaustion useable hours, I also enjoy crafting, art, writing, and being social with friends. But it’s not always possible. Like the recently dropped Tea Night! Nearly every Thursday, a bunch of yarn addled friends, my Darling Wife, and I used go to our favorite local tea house and knit, crochet, drink tea, and share space. The tea house changed hours and I don’t have the spoons right now to seek and find a decent replacement location.
(See: Spoon Theory post once it’s actually published.)
I’m trying though. I try to remember to be gentle with myself. I try to remember I am more than my diagnoses. But I also try to push myself past my comfort zone every now and again. Stagnation is not something I am comfortable with. I am ever dynamic. I’m always wanting to learn, to grow, to do better for myself and others.
Along with writing of my struggles, one of the coping mechanisms I’ve chosen is reading.
Since I have such an extensive ebook library, and access to the local library’s unfortunately limited ebook library, I’m going to be writing regular reviews of things I read.
I’m going to be telling you my story, my truths; and because I’m me, there will be laughter, upsets, recipes, frank discussions of mental health issues and treatments, bitchfests, and probably more than one political and/or feminist rant. (Especially because I was born Jewish, I cannot sit silent and complacent under 45’s goddamned NRA-funded oligarchy because I was raised knowing what happens to people when a terror is in power. And inclusive feminism is my thing!) And the Oxford Comma is my friend.
What can you do? Suggest books for me! Leave comments! I love comments, because they’re like validation cookies that I’m not just screaming into the digital void. If you’re so inclined, hit me up to chat on social media. Interact with me, so we can scream into the digital void together.
Also! I’m usually going to be the shortest person in any given picture. With a goof ass smile and my ever present glasses. I’m the one wearing black lipstick in this post’s photo, which is a throw back to this past July.