Days alive: 12, 179
Day of NaNoWriMo: 1
Words Left to Write Today: 1,310
Words Left to Write for the Month: 49,643
Times I’ve Cried Today: 9
Days Till My Next Adventure: 4
Things I Did other than Write: 19
So far today, I’ve been bizarrely non-productive, or at least busy and not doing what I should be? I’m not having a great mental health day. I barely slept last night. I think I read most of a 100k word count fanfic because I couldn’t bloody sleep.
Today is a day I could have gladly stayed in bed and done absolutely nothing for the whole of the day.
Nonetheless, I woke up when my Darling Wife did. Once she left for the day, I took my meds and cried a little bit, because I was certain I was going to throw up from pain. I ate half a PBJ, because I could likely live on them, and followed it up with a swig of Pepto to try and keep the food down. Because of Nan needing something, I woke up my Darling Wife’s brother, Dav, let his four dogs out into the backyard. Once Nan and Dav left, I ended up throwing up water for a good ten minutes for god knows what reason.
Once I had my stomach under control and a few sips of water, I felt a little less like road kill. Threw a load of laundry in to wash, and let Dav’s dogs in from the backyard. Went back to the room, put away some clutter, and cried again. I did a few yoga stretches, read a supposedly happy short story, cried again. I let the dogs back out. Killed the better part of two hours watching something on Netflix, scooped the cat box, changed the laundry over to the dryer, and tried to write again.
When that failed, I vacuumed the floor until my back spasmed. Cue my sorry ass crying again while waiting for the muscle relaxer to kick in. I did some research for the NaNovel. And when my head started hurting no matter what the pain meds and water I was chugging, I watched two soap making videos by Royalty Soaps. Then I read a small, old favorite fanfic of mine, did some more research, and finally got some writing done.
I’m still nauseous. I did manage to keep down the second half of the PBJ, and a trio of small sugar cookies. So that’s something. I tried eating some cheese its, but they didn’t stay down for more than a few minutes.
I’ve got to be better about taking my mind mints. That’s the euphemism that’s cropped up for discussing things like anti-anxiety medications amongst my friends. When we are feeling anxious, or are outwardly symptomatic to those that know us best, it can be suggested that perhaps we want to take a mind mint, take a breath, or go get a cup of tea.
I will be frank: I am on several medications right now. One of which is hydroxyzine. It isn’t a cure-all by any stretch. Just helps with some of the panic attacks or helps me calm down enough to get a little sleep. I am also on Lyrica, which was initially heinously expensive for me. I mean like $200 a month out of pocket after insurance levels of heinous. Mathematically, that one medication alone was literally 10% of my annual income. ONE medication that allows me to at least vaguely function like a normal human being and not a depressed, non-functional blob of tears, sadness, and insomnia.
I had a point.
I’ve lost that point.
Oh. Today has been a very long, productive but not in the ways that I thought it would be sort of day. That was my point. Life is expensive. And with my new adventure being far, far less than I was making previously, I will have to budget very, very carefully.
I am not pretty today. I am not happy, not smiling, not doing okay. I haven’t shaved my face since Tuesday and feel exceedingly self-conscious about it, but can’t seem to find the spoons to actually fix it. I hate my hair, hate my reflection today. So I put on a favorite hat, pull myself out of pajamas even though I do not have anywhere to go since my Darling Wife is bringing home dinner. I’m trying.
So, friends, I know that today is not a pretty day. Tomorrow might be better. Might be worse, in all honesty; but I hope tomorrow is better.