In this hour, I do not believe that any darkness will endure.
- J.R.R. Tolkien
I spilled oats all over the place while refilling the big jar that lives on the counter. Just my natural grace asserting itself. Anyway I’ve had dogs for the last thirty years so I can barely recall what one does in this case if there aren’t hoovering mammals nearby. You have to get a broom or somesuch? What a hassle. This is much easier.
Jupes and I found ourselves out on the deck yesterday. Greg had gone out to “sit in the remaining sun,” and we’d followed him like the two barnacles we are. After he’d soaked up enough and went inside, I felt this need to keep soaking. Something felt special about staring up at the sun, eyes closed, dimly aware of its descent into the trees, warmth spreading over my face.
Finnegan was so cute that Jupes asked for my phone so they could take some photo. He was incredibly stressed about not being in my lap, until he realized that he could put his front half on my legs, and park his caboose on the step behind him. Then he calmed down and was able to take in the scene.
He’s getting to be such a little old man. He doesn’t want to sleep in the bed at night like he used to, he wants to be on the floor next to me so as to avoid the lifting up and down. I’m aware that I may only have a couple years left with him, but I hope it’s more like several years. He’s still cheerful though, and still thinks I am the best thing since peanut butter. He has spent pretty much every day of his eleven years devoted to my wellbeing. It’s so humbling to be loved like that.
I blurted out, “Oh yeah! It’s the solstice! We’re watching the sun set on the longest day of the year.” Jupes turned their head to the sky and said, “Oh that’s right!”
We decided to watch the whole thing happen. Silently I plotted that, starting now, I would watch the sun set on the solstices and the equinoxes every year for the rest of my life. Even the cold ones. I love that idea.
I mean, I could also watch the sun rises. But that means getting up in the morning. I’ll need to think on that one. I guess I do have the espresso machine now.
Almost gone.
We decided that when this entertainment was over, we’d go watch Pride & Prejudice (2005). Which we did. It was nice.
Still peeking. I found myself wondering how many other people on earth were, at that moment, watching the sun set. What were they all thinking? I don’t actually want to know. That’d be overwhelming. Also an incredible breach of privacy. But I hope it was good.
Aaaaaand….done.
Trib woke me up this morning at 7:30am yesterday, hollering from the dead tree in front of the house. I got up and shambled out to the porch. They’d given up and were JUST flying away (my dude, give me a minute, I was totally asleep). I did the whistle and chucked the peanuts into the driveway, and they came back and gorged themself. Then I went to the interwebs and bought two more 5lb bags of unsalted peanuts.
This was the first Trib hello in at least a few days? They seem to be busy, probably with nest-building? Knowing Trib, they probably also spend a few hours a day sowing general unrest. Man, that bird can squawk. I’m really glad I haven’t pissed any of them off.
Greg likes to do these Sunday morning Costco runs, where he goes right when they open so there’s hardly anyone there and he can run through and grab everything in mere minutes (he often times himself and then reports it to me, like a very specialized introvert track event, I love hearing how triumphant he sounds). Usually I don’t go with him because I’m slow and in a lot of pain, and the stress and overwhelm can easily trigger panic attacks. Also I have severe ADHD so I’m easily distracted by things like shrink-wrapped boxes of 14 tiny bottles of new and fascinating types of lotions (this is fictional but you know what I’m talking about). Or tiny BBQ grills that would fit on the porch (this really happened today; I was not allowed to get this one, lol).
But yesterday I went! I don’t know why, he just asked me if I wanted to join him. I said, “Are you sure?” in that way that means, “You do realize, I am a lot of work? I’d like you to consider this carefully,” and he laughed and said, “Yes, I want you to come,” in that way that means, “Thank you for you concern, but I have actually considered this, and the joy of having you with me outweighs the inevitable 17 minutes you will add to my time.” I love this guy.
(I asked him after I wrote this how long I added, and he said, “Probably about 15-20 minutes so I bet you’re right on) hahaha
I need help from other Gen Xers. I have this bit I do, where I see something silly like this cracker name, and I go, “Crunch Mastah! Mastah of da Crunch!” In a terrible accent that one might vaguely identify as 80’s Movie German Guy. And I feel like it must be from some childhood movie that was on HBO every weekend. Does anyone recognize that speech pattern? A character who would go, “A B! B of the A!” in a terribly silly deep voice?
I have a terrible feeling no one will recognize this and it will be clear that I just made this up, and I’ll have to reckon with the fact that this brain of mine is…well…mine.
I would also say, “Leeloo Dallas, Multi-Grain,” but we all know where that came from.
Anyway, if the circumstances of life have forced you to be gluten-free, these crackers are pretty good. They’re no Wheat-Thin. But they’ll do in a pinch.
Posted about this awesome Singer sewing machine deal on my Mastodon account. Then watched as over 200 people boosted it, which shocked the heck outta me.
I know this is a sauna, but don’t you wish it was a giant hamster wheel for people? Everyone who has a boring old treadmill in their basement will be envious when you install this right in the living room.
You actually can get a treadmill similar in shape (and probably much cooler) for your cats:
Costco was basically a huge success, I’m still in awe of it. I’m silently thanking the universe. I did experience significant pain walking around, but I didn’t have any anxiety or panic at all. This was so nice! I’m hoping it’s progress from the new recovery program I’m (which is going well!) and not a fluke. And he was right, it wasn’t crowded at all. I got to say hello to not one but TWO adorable babies, who for some reason found me interesting to look at, thus I was able to hold their gaze long enough to smile and wave. Both of them grinned at me. Babies rewl.
When we walked back out to our car, there was a black SUV parked next to us where someone had taken a finger and written I LOVE YOU MUM in the thick layer of dust covering the windows. Greg and I had wondered on the way there whether Costco would be empty because of Father’s Day, or if it would be, as Greg said, “crawling with dads buying drill bits or something”. It was sort of in the middle - not a lot of people, but a lot of guys, and many of them buying bouquets of flowers?
After Costco, we rested for a bit, then walked down to the Sunday Farmer’s Market. It was a little busier than last week. I’m grateful for this, it means that more folks are finding out about it, and I really want it to succeed.
I couldn’t find any romaine today, but BNF, my favorite kombucha in the land, was having a big sale on the last of their Pomegranate Cardamom flavor, which in my opinion is the best flavor ever made. I bought a case of 12 bottles for $32, a total steal, and strapped it to the back of Bea.
If you like the rainbow bike straps, you can buy your own at Rivendell. They’re $10 a piece. Honestly I got them because I just love rainbows, both by themselves and as Pride symbols. I figured I’d keep them near my bike at first, but secretly I figured I might never use them as bike straps and would someday work them into a sewing project, like a bag. But the Brompton has that rear rack, and the straps are PERFECT for keeping things on there! I’m really happy I have these. They now live at the bottom of my water bottle bag, semi-permanently attached to my handlebars. Ready to hop into duty at a moment’s notice.
When we got home, someone had parked their beautiful old Volvo in front of the house:
Once again, I have narrowly avoided starting my life of crime. I didn’t steal it. I didn’t even force my way in and hang out there for awhile (someone did this to my little sailboat once, lol - and then left me a note saying if ever wanted to sell, they’d buy it).
Finally, I have saved the best photo for last.
She is ten weeks old, and she’s her mom’s first dog. I was strapping the kombucha onto the back of the bike, and it was all unwieldy because I was also holding a plate of breakfast burrito and a kombucha bottle in the other hands. It took me several minutes to wrangle it all.
I stand up from this project, and housemate is looking at me with eyebrows upraised. He says in a stage whisper, “Okay! I didn’t want to tell you until you were ready! But there is A CORGI PUPPY RIGHT BEHIND ME!”
My mouth fell open and I walked around him, and THERE SHE WAS. Waiting in line at a pastries booth. I walked over and said, “Hi! May I pet your puppy?” The young woman turned and immediately said, “Oh sure!”
Clover is adorable and was absolutely ready for getting love from a stranger, and proceeded to bonk my nose and lick my hands. Puppy breath is THE BEST, it’s an elixir by itself. Which is weird to say about something that smells 7% like urine, but there you go. Maybe it’s just because it’s breathed out of puppies.
Anyway so I’m chatting with this young person and thinking they look sort of vaguely familiar, but it’s a small town, so not that surprising. I asked if they minded if I put Clover in my blog, and they said that’d be great, but also could I add their business name? I said sure, and they handed me their card with a link to their Instagram account - instagram.com/dangerspermanentjewelry/
It’s Danger! Danger went to high school with my kids. Danger has been to our house and hung out, back in 2022. HI DANGER! :D Danger, if you’re reading this, Jupiter and I both say hello! Also, we think Clover is a fantastic name for a corgi. Jupes said that all corgis need names that sound like they could be Calico Critters. This is so true.
Okay that’s it for weekend report. If you made it this far, thanks for reading. :)
Be well, everyone! Remember to drink water and read something other than the news, every day!
Jaime and I went to brunch on Friday, and I got my sandwich on this lovely pink plate that looked like Depression glass.
Tonight, toward the end of games, I was getting tired again and I started idly sketching my kombucha and the ink bottle for the ink I’m using in my Kaweco. It’s Sketch Ink’s Thea, from their new range. I love this stuff, it’s a total delight to sketch with!
Here’s Cal coming to say hello.
He still sleeps on the failed pants every day:
Thursday news! Amazing Thursday news! Just kidding. It’s not that amazing. I do love a good Thursday though.
I was a barista in my late teens, and I really enjoyed it. We got this espresso machine in April, for some reason I felt compelled to get the pink one, which is definitely not my normal style. But when it arrived, the obvious name was Rosie Cotton, and so the large brown grinder sitting next to it became Samwise, because I’m nothing if not predictable. And now I’m predictably caffeinated. Which is the best way to be caffeinated.
To my total surprise, the nostalgia this machine brought with it just charmed the heck out of me, and now making our coffee every day has become such a wonderful addition to my life. I figured I’d enjoy having a mocha a couple times a week, but I didn’t realize I would enjoy the ritual of making it so much, and that it would become a morning routine every day of the week - and that I’d make it not just for me, but one for Greg, and one for Jupes, too (they’re home for the summer, huzzah!).
So to have Rosie break down after only a couple months, well. That stunk. But the company agreed to send us a new one, and it should arrive tomorrow.
We live in Springfield, Oregon, which is the same as Eugene, Oregon, except that it’s sort of to the right. There’s this blob, see, and Interstate 5 wends down the middle of it, and everything to the left is Eugene, and everything to the right is Springfield, and there we go. I’m sure there’s a larger story there, but the important part is, it’s fun to live in downtown Springfield because you get the joys of a small town downtown (which are MANY), and yet you can also run to Eugene in about 4 minutes if you need anything from over there.
For years, much of what I needed over there was the produce at the Farmer’s Market every weekend, but this year they announced a SECOND Farmer’s Market at the Springfield Library! Yay!
So we went! And it was lovely. I think they said they had 48 vendors? All food, all the time. Well, and also some food plants, for the local gardeners, of which we have thousands. If you throw a potato in Eugene/Springfield, you will probably hit someone who can tell you what variety of potato you’re throwing. Not that I recommend throwing potatoes. You should eat those suckers. No food waste!
I ended up getting a whole half flat of berries. And then, because I had ridden Bea there (Greg had walked, behind me), I put the berries on Bea using my excellently-rainbowed bike straps. Happy PRIDE month, berry box!
I rode Bea because I was in too much pain to walk, which I discovered when we tried to walk it and I started to see stars. Fibromyalgia is not a heaping pile of fun, but berries are, and I really wanted to get down there, so I grabbed the bike and used it as a mobility device. I love Bea for this because she’s so small, so when I get to the market, I can step off and we can walk around with her and she’s just WEE. She doesn’t get in anyone’s way or block paths.
I love this bike so much. She gives me a such a good BEA-ATITUDE! HAhahah! Religious bike humor! Puns are just my cross to bear. BA DUM BUM. Maybe I spoke too soon! HAHAAHa.
I’ll stop.
Jupiter, our youngest child, and myself, both love a similar style of pants. And a few other things. We have this great Venn diagram of wardrobe preferences, and in the middle is Flowy Linen Everything. Many years ago now I made pants for me, that Jupiter grew up to love and now has several pair gifted from me. They’re smaller than I am, but that’s the the beauty of Flowy Linen stuff, given enough elastic a single garment can look great on a wide variety of body types.
So it’s been a long time, and those pants have gotten a bit worn, and we decided I’d make some new ones. But that old pattern seems to be well and truly gone, I can’t find it. And then we found the Sachi Bloomers from Opal Annie, on Etsy. I was envisioning making these in all kinds of glorious funky patchwork, and Jupiter was totally on board with that idea, so I tried them.
They look okay, and fit AWFUL.
The big red flag was right there: the front and back pieces were the same. There is no shaping at all. Human bodies, whether they’re slender or middling or as I call my shape, “a nice potato” (….starting to notice my potato obsession 🤔🥔….) are not the same on the front as on the back.
Which meant that when I put them on, they felt very weird. Like my own pants were angry that my butt existed. And I have a very flat butt, which should in no way offend the pants I’m wearing, if anything, they should be critical of how little I give them to work with. I know this because for most of my thirties I had two friends who would always lift up my sweater when walking behind me and call out to my butt cheeks, going, “Where did they gooooooo?” Ahhhh, friends.
When I bent over, these bloomers just sagged down my back, nearly exposing Crackatoa, it was very uncomfortable. Not sustainable. So I took them off and let Jupes try them on, we figured maybe it’d be okay on them since their bum/waist is smaller, so more room in the pants overall. But Jupes had the same issue!
So we folded them up and put them on the dining room table, and now Cal spends half his day sleeping on them. Jupiter said today that I should just let him have them.
I went searching for more pants patterns, but decided my confidence was rattled and I wanted to start with shorts, which are better for summertime anyway. So I chose the Twig and Tale Coastal Cuffed Shorts. I love Twig and Tale, and they have the funnest cottage core Hobbit-worthy patterns.
They also have flat front options for all the women’s patterns! This means that instead of shaping over the chest, like curves and bust darts, you can modify every pattern for boobless bods. I love this about them. Hey totally unrelated but have a mentioned lately that gender-affirming care saves lives? IT DOES. 🏳️⚧️ ⚧️
But first I had to print out a tank top pattern, since I really need a few of those for summer.
Housemate has begun making this utterly delicious mac and cheese recipe, and after being given a few bites over the last few weeks I finally said, “If I give you some cheese will you make a batch where I can just eat, like, half the pan all by myself?” He said yes. He laughed first.
So I had a plate of mac and cheese next to me, and Chloe, Cal’s sister, was extremely interested in it, to the point of finally resorting to her death glare. This, along with her terrifying hunting prowess (no, they are not outdoor cats, and thank goodness because she’d halve the bird population in weeks), is why I joke she’s a reincarnated Special Forces operator. No one knows what she used to do in her former life, but I’m pretty sure it involved taking people out, with attitude. I did give her some mac and cheese in the end. I don’t want her to hate me. Who knows what she’d do.
In this photo you also accidentally get to see Jupiter holding Marques’s hand, because they’re adorable all the time, even in the backgrounds of photos. And yes I asked permission to post this. :)
Oh wait! Also, I’ve started sprouting again.
Fascinating. Truly. I hope you were prepared.
Also, the garden was really pretty the other day:
Someone parked this 300-year-old military jeep across the street from where Jaime and I were having coffee, and by some miracle I did not start my life of crime and steal it. Did anyone else watch M*A*S*H as a very small child and think how neat military life must be simply because of the jeeps? No? Just me? Well.
I had to draw it in the brunch book, the book I paint in while we talk.
Okay, that’s it for this update! I hope everyone is well! Go forth into the summer and stay cool, and remember to rest, and stretch, and read something other than the news at least once a day. Hugs from me.
Hello to Spike and Autumn! :)
Jupes and I roasted marshmallows on the porch tonight. I had a stack of papers to burn, some things I’d printed out and didn’t need anymore. At first this seemed to work fine, but after a few minutes it was smoking so much we worried the neighbors were going to call the fire department. I decided we needed actual sticks (wood will burn better and cleaner than printer paper, surely).
We didn’t immediately have sticks, but I had a long branch on the porch from the neighbor’s tree that had been cut down a few months ago. But it was way too thick to break apart with hands, and I HAD A FLASH - the DREMEL! I’d recently gotten some tiny saw blades. I could saw the branch apart!
This didn’t go exactly as planned. It took a really, really long time, and the blade kept stopping. Also we were laughing so hard that I kept having to stop to catch my breath. Jupiter was typing away on their phone and I finally said, “Are you texting someone?” They said no, they were recording our dialogue onto the Discord server they share with their housemates, lol.
I was given leave to share this screenshot:
So the red flashing light is new because I’ve never used a Dremel before. I got it a few weeks ago and so far it’s only been used to engrave my initials into the bottoms of aluminum paint palettes and sand the tips of wooden paintbrushes I’d broken (on purpose - I like shorter brushes). I got the saw blades because, well, if you have a Dremel, eventually you’re gonna wanna saw something, amirite?
I finally got the blade about 80% of the way through the stick, which meant that with some banging in the stair rail, I could break that piece off, but Jupiter begged me not to keep going, especially after I started reminiscing about the time in 1982 when great-grandpa Emil sawed off three of his fingers on the bandsaw in the basement. He came up with one hand wrapped in a towel, the tips of his fingers wrapped in a rag in the other hand. I was sitting at the table eating a sandwich. Grandpa so was unperturbed that it took me a minute to realize what was happening. He looked at me and turned and yelled calmly into the other room, “Ma! We need to go to the hospital!”
Our genetic heritage was a little too apparent to Jupiter after that story. Personally, I think they were needlessly intimidated - I had it in hand! HAR HAR HAR
Here’s a video of our fire:
https://makertube.net/w/ke7k9MH3n9tQz95yyETSmh
Here’s me with all my fingers intact. I promise to stop using Dremels before I’m 80 years old.
I eventually took a page out of the crows’ book and just went over to the dead tree and pulled sticks off that. Those worked great! No more smoking! We had a lovely fire, and bellies full of marshmallows in no time.
Finn and Zoe did not get bellies full of marshmallows. Which grieved them deeply.
I was always kind of a bear for safety on my boat. We sailed on Puget Sound which was cold water, and also sailboats aren’t super maneuverable, so if you fell overboard it might take me a few minutes to get sails down and come get you, and you would be extremely uncomfortable the entire time. Once, a friend was horsing around and pretended to lean over the side, and then nearly fell backward over the lifelines, but I reached out and grabbed them by the shirt and pulled them back in. They were not allowed to come sailing again.
There is a lot that can go wrong on a boat. I remember my dad telling me that when I was a kid. We were out on the river, and I asked why he was always harping on me to be careful, and he said on that on the water, it’s not that things necessarily go wrong more often but just that when they do, it gets deadlier so much faster than on land. Something about the way he phrased that really stayed with me.
Anyway the point is that I’m very careful on the water, and yet on land, I’m pretty much okay with sawing things, setting fire to things, sticking forks in things (just kidding, that didn’t happen - anyway it wasn’t a fork, and it was totally grounded), any and all sorts of possibly questionable activities.
Hey! As long as you can’t drown, it’s gonna be fine!! What’s the worst that could happen?
Calm down and hand me that fire extinguisher.
Early this morning I was still in bed, but the window was open, and I heard a crow squawking. What struck me was that it wasn’t a normal CAW, CAW, it was like….Caw CAW caawww…..Caw CAW caaawww. Repeated over and over, like YO! YO!! YES YOU!! I’M TALKING TO YOU!! YES!! STOP LOOKING BEHIND YOU!! IT’S YOU!!
So I looked out the window, and it was Trib! I can’t tell the birds apart by their color or anything, it’s all body language. This still surprises me, how clearly Fred and Trib are two different birbs. Trib was standing in the tree, breaking off branches. Practically stomping their tiny stick feet. I called out, “I’m coming, one sec!” And got up and put clothes on.
By the time I got out there, Trib was gone, so I stood on the porch and whistled the same rhythm they had been calling at me with. I’m standing there like a weird bird lady in my Animal Crossing pajama pants, thinking, “This is ridiculous, a crow isn’t going to give a crap about this whistle even if they can hear it,” and then suddenly OH HOLY CRAP THERE’S TRIB!
They swooped into their summoning tree, then glided up to the top of the street light in our driveway, which is very high so obviously very safe when dealing with weird chonky humans who cluck and whistle and throw nuts around.
Trib looked down at me. I did the call again, then chucked several peanuts into the street. Trib does this thing where they just hop off the light like someone jumping off a cliff, wings closed, fall for a single second, then they open their wings and glide to the ground. It’s the most gorgeous thing I see all day.
They landed, began trying to collect all the nuts (I keep forgetting they can’t hold more than two at a time, I need to remember that), and I went back into the house to let Trib figure out breakfast logistics.
I watched a video review of Dirty Dancing yesterday that talked about how well it’s held up. They pointed out how the film values abortion as healthcare, that it doesn’t vilify Penny’s decision and also doesn’t vilify sex (it’s a pretty sex-positive movie), and that the class commentary is insightful and sensitive.
So I was telling Jupiter all this and they said, “You know, I never watched that one,” to which I started sputtering confused noises about how was that possible, etc etc. So we watched it tonight, and we totally loved it. I had to work really hard not to sing all the songs. We did a lot of movie analysis, it was fun. And at the end I went to YouTube and made them watch the video of the final scene of Dirty Dancing set to the Muppets theme song. Jupiter was entranced, and then at the end agreed, “Yes, that had to be done.” 😂
Afterward we were all flexing our muscles and talking about getting in shape (Dirty Dancing will do that, everyone is SO FIT) and I started doing a balancing move in the living room.
Greg: When done right is no defense!
Jupiter: Whaa?
Me: He’s quoting The Karate Kid <expertly demonstrates crane kick and almost falls into wall>
Jupiter: I never saw that one either! There was this period of my life where you guys tried to get me to watch a bunch of movies and I wouldn’t, so you gave up, and then I was ready and you weren’t pushing them anymore
Me: I know, I have to live with you never watching Star Wars
Jupiter: No but Marques (boyfriend) made me and I just didn’t like it
Me: <doubling over> You told me already, we can’t talk about it, the pain is still too raw
Jupes and I were standing at the sink in the kitchen, talking and laughing loudly, when I realized I could hear a crow cawing. I looked up and a crow was sitting on the line outside, looking in, and our window was open. This is on the other side of the house from where we normally interact. I’m not sure how well they can see in through the screen, but I leaned toward the window and did my “cluck cluck” horse-calling sound (that I now use on the crows). Then I said, “On sec! I’ll get the peanuts!”
They seemed to immediately cock their head at the sound, and then moved toward the window a step or two. I went to the front door, grabbed three peanuts, chucked them into the driveway. The crow immediately dove down for them.
So that’s new. :)
I just made everyone espresso (except me, I have to go to the dentist soon, HEAVY SIGH), and Jupes had to wait several minutes for the water to boil for their dirty chai. Which brought up the question of why water takes so long to boil (we have a good electric kettle, but it's still several minutes).
Greg informed that this is why England has different power sockets, so the water boils faster. I was like, "No way, that can't be why, how much faster can it be?" So he looked up times.
And now Jupes and me are moving to England.
I love Tom’s Studio pens but the two Studio Pocket fountain pens I have BOTH have pretty terrible leakage problems. Yesterday I finally bit the bullet and got a full-sized Studio Fountain Pen, only because I don’t want to give up all my flex and semi-flex nibs from them, and that pen has a different converter.
And only now in writing this do I pause to consider that maybe I just got a bad batch of converters. Hmmm. Well. Perhaps I will write to the company and explain the PENDICAMENT. They’ll probably throw some converters into the package for me, they’re nice like that.
Also: I’m running a little low on Carbon Black so I’m trying Sketch Ink’s EMMA, which is green and mossy and full of win, I love it so much!
I’m going through a terabyte of old data on a disk that’s wheezing along, attached to my laptop, and I found this old Pride flag that I had on my website in 2012.
I don’t quite understand how this can be true for a digital rainbow flag (even besides the missing brown and black stripes), but you can just tell it’s an antique.
The crows are still interacting. The day I taught them I had peanuts and was willing to share, was a situation where one of them was collecting sticks off our dead tree for their nest, so it associated me coming out the door with breaking sticks off the tree.
Now, one stands in the tree, faces the house, squawks, and pulls a branch off and then drops it on the ground. I come out, send two peanuts sailing into the driveway with my pitching arm (the driveway is about how long my pitching arm can reach), and then I go back in the house and let them eat.
What surprises me is that they only ask me a couple times a day. If I had a human I could summon for an instant slice of pizza, I’d be pressing that button more than once or twice a day.
A few weeks ago I’d written about how I’d started working with a new therapist in regard to what I thought was going to be an agoraphobia diagnosis. Within the first session this person didn’t think I had agoraphobia, and they confirmed it in the second session.
Overall, this was good and not incredibly surprising news. Between the first and second session, it felt clear to me that I was unconsciously stretching to fit that diagnosis, because there seemed to be a clear therapeutic path. In other words, it felt like agoraphobia was a thing that could be cured. Whereas, my current diagnosis of Just Really F*&$ing Anxious All The Time, doesn’t really seem to be curable, which is, to say the least, Really F*&$ing Stressful.
But I remain optimistic. Because I just do. I love life too much! I’m not ready to be done. I’m not ready to drop this and just accept that my brain doesn’t work. I accept that my brain works differently, and I accept that in many ways, my amygdala lives in the 1800’s. It wants everything low-tech, it wants it to be completely normal to sit in the garden two hours a day, writing letters to friends, and it wants to never travel faster than a horse’s gallop.
And yeah, reply guys (haha suckers! no comment section on this blog!), I said many ways, not all ways. I’m not saying I literally want to live in the 1800’s. I like being able to own land and vote and wear pants. Marrying for love is the bee’s knees. I really appreciate modern dentistry. Etc.
But it’s pretty clear that the part of my brain that processes fear, is overwhelmed nearly all of the time, and there's definitely a facet of me that yearns to take a long break from the current fiasco we call modern life.
Some of this overwhelm is due to very late-diagnosed autism. Not until I was sitting in my doctor’s office crying and telling her about my daily life, and she said, “What you’re describing is autistic overwhelm,” did I have any idea that a lot of what I’d categorized as “anxiety” was actually my whole sensory system telling me it had enough and it was not having anymore.
That there was a name for this: meltdown.
That appt. was nine months ago, and in that period time I’ve learned SO much that has helped me. I’m out of meltdown now, most of the time, instead of in it. I know the signs of it coming on, and I know how those signs differ from anxiety attacks or histamine attacks (I also have MCAS, Mast Cell Activation Syndrome). Gaining this knowledge has been a radical thing, and pretty much every time I see my doctor I tell her that she changed my life for the better that day.
But the rest of it, I’m still dealing with. This pernicious state of fight/flight that I’ve been in for years and am struggling to shed, it wears me down. I know it affects everything, and I know it’s having harmful impacts on my health. I do tend to have a lot of panic attacks when I’m out, so it was just easy to stretch that into…..and that means I’m agoraphobic, right?
Nope. Ah well.
I keep going. I PERSIST. I’m in a new chronic illness recovery program, and I think it’s helping. I’m also making some great progress on my own, by….drumroll please…..finally being able to hear myself.
For some of us with long histories of being bullied, by peers but also by our own families, I think the importance of learning the skills of listening to your own feelings and acknowledging all of them, can’t be overstated. Especially if you’re also neurodivergent, because that path in life comes with a lot of masking based in early feedback from the world that you either weren’t enough, or were too much - or sometimes both!
Those experiences can mean that we lost our own sense of inner regulation and stability, very early, long before we knew what it was we were losing. At that time, as little kids, we only knew what made us safer. So we did those things. Even if it meant no longer listening to ourselves.
I’m not describing some overtly haunted, shell of a person, I’m describing a lot of normal-ish functioning-ish adults who are deeply stressed out and can’t identify why. That feeling where yeah, you can see that aspects of life are really difficult (for you and everyone else), you acknowledge that, but you also know that something is just wrong inside yourself. Not about you, but in you. Some alarm, something specific to you, is going off all the time. And you can’t figure out what it’s warning you about or how to turn it off.
It’s this. Or at least, it can be this. It was for me. I have really had to learn to hear. It seems like it should be the most basic thing in the world. Just listen to yourself! But it’s not, not when certain histories are in place that meant you either never developed this skill in the first place, or lost it in order to keep yourself safe.
To see that you’re missing that, to grow it or gain it back, takes real practice and skill, and it also takes a certain kind of understanding that you extend to yourself over and over, a thousand times. A gentle, compassionate view toward the deepest, darkest parts, a willingness to listen, to hear it all. No matter what comes up.
And now I want to write about the things that did come up for me, but this is already long enough, and I want to watch the end of a movie before I turn in, so I’m going to save that piece for later.
The point is: learning to hear yourself is gold. And the better I get at it, the more possible healing feels. I have real hope that my amygdala is going to figure out a sense of safety. Hopefully soon.
But later is okay too.
But soon would sure be nice.
Aaaannnnnny day now.
Just for fun, to see if it would work, I put 40 colors into this tiny palette that fits in the palm of my hand. I was curious if it would really be functional. It is! For small art, obviously, as it’s difficult to dip a larger brush into tiny wells. But it totally works with a smaller brush! This was fun. Now it will live in my bag so I can have all the colors with me at all times. (Not all, but close enough).
This is a gold Roman Szmal Urban Mini palette, and the wells are the expansion set from Portable Painter.
It’s taken me 90 minutes to teach two crows that if they sit in the tree in front of my window, I will come out and throw them a peanut. Damn, these beasties are smart!
Greg: You know, the only time I really miss being young is when I see some of these concerts I wish I had the energy for - like I don’t think I have the energy for Tomorrowland, the largest EDM festival in Europe, but if I were twenty-five, I would totally go
Me: When you were twenty-five, they didn’t even HAVE electronic music
Greg:
Me: It was just like, guys playing lutes
Greg: I think they’d just invented the pianoforte
Jupiter, a junior in college and juggling life and school and a partner and friends and all that, was feeling a bit overwhelmed caring for their son, Sebastian (my grand lizard). So I offered to take over care, and Jupes was thrilled. First thing I did was get him a big terrarium filled with gecko fun. Me and Jupes set it all up and <drum roll> HE LOVES IT! ☺️
Tonight he came over to his door, and I opened it, and he walked straight out onto my hand and then sat with me in my chair for awhile. We discussed his gambling and narcotic use. He’s agreed to a support group. Small steps.
This is my first rose, and also the first time I did a pencil outline and then watercolored it in (versus my usual pen and ink sketches filled in with watercolor). I’m happy with it; I sketched it standing in my neighbor’s garden. They’re total sweethearts and gave me previous permission to draw their flowers. Hollie Happily Haunts Your Flowerbeds. Greg sat on our porch across the street. We’d just had a great talk about some of my chronic illness issues (which are still unfun, but the painting helps a lot). Art journaling is my forever jam.
I love making postcards.
