I'm Not "Back"
So don't get excited. I just know this is a convenient way to broadcast an update to y'all on where life has led me. I'm still not around much, if at all. I do check my messages maybe once a week and pop on the chat network when I get a snow day at work. I'm creating, but it's not meant for y'all.
So illness sucks. That's not up for debate. All types of illness suck. A cold sucks. Scrambled nerves suck. Depression sucks. Vague autoimmune diarrhea sucks. Abscessed molars suck. Herpes sucks. (Not crotchpox. The shingles. I'm less sexually active than a Buddhist nun.) Then it all gets better. Medication juggling is an ongoing battle and I'm trying to find a happy medium of being just healthy enough
. And then shit starts hitting the fan in every direction, people start dying, you get a job, and it all goes to hell. And then it all gets better again. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
And then somewhere in the middle of it all I've found a pretty comfortable life through self-flagellation. I don't allow myself any
luxury more luxurious than one pound of bacon or one bottle of prosecco a month. I don't deserve it. Clean eating, clean living, clean mental processes, clean house. I'm sure it'll all get fucked up come the summer - it would be unlike me to keep the stability for any amount of time lbr - but for now it's great. I'm working in my industry again, dipping my feet back into having a social life, living with a grandmother I didn't speak to for six years in the old family house that was vacant for so long, knitting shawls, playing euchre, thinking in French, going to church, reconnecting with my family, growing my own henna, getting two kittens at the end of the month.
Not dating, because no. It'll be a long
fucking time before I do that again.
(Can any of you imagine me ever saying that and keeping to it at any point in my past? I can't. Yet here I am.)
There's a nagging sensation that right around the corner something's waiting to blast it all to hell. If anyone on this earth has some bad karmic debt it's me. But I guess until then I'll roll with it. I might not think I deserve to be happy, but I do deserve to continue
And I just put my hair back to my
old phoenix red.
Fuck's up with all y'all?
A Plath Excerpt
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——
A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.